The Mistress
by SweetJane21
Summary: Former high school sweethearts Spencer and Toby reunite after 3 years apart, when Spencer is forced to return to her small town of Rosewood, Pennsylvania. But neither one can forget the deep, passionate first love they once shared. Unable to fight their feelings for each other anymore, Spencer and Toby begin a beautiful love affair despite all forces trying to tear them apart.
1. Chapter 1

1\. Coming Home

Spencer

I sat on the stone bench in the middle of Folger Park with my legs crossed, reading the letter that my best friend, Alison DiLaurentis, had sent me three days ago. I hadn't mustered up the courage to open it until now.

I glanced across the street at the terraced townhouses and luxury hotel buildings. Behind me rose the pristine White House. It was the early afternoon on a perfect, crystal-clear blue sky fall day in Washington D.C. The air smelled like cherry blossom trees and wildflowers, and the cold, but soft wind bit at my cheeks. I picked off a piece of lint from my black sheath dress, which was paired with my beige trench coat and black high heels. It was the best day to take a jog through the Capital Crescent Trail and the worst day to fly out to Rosewood, Pennsylvania for Charles DiLaurentis' hearing, the flawless small town where I'd grown up with my best friends.

Five years ago, my friends and I, Hanna Marin, Aria Montgomery, Emily Fields, and Jess Clarke had all been tormented with mysterious, twisted messages from someone who went by the initial letter _A_. Jess, an old childhood friend of Ali's, had been getting torturous messages from the evil stalker as well, prying deeper and deeper into her dark past. Jess had shown up in Rosewood eight dizzying months before our high school graduation, when everything had changed. But things only got more dangerous. It turned out that my mother's former tenant, Jonny Raymond, who had been living in the barn-renovated-loft next to our house, was actually Jess' older ex-boyfriend. He'd been stalking her and even sexually assaulted her a year prior to her arrival in town, and had used his position in the secret N.A.T. Club to spy on and videotape all of us.

At first, we all thought that A might have been Alison, our best friend who went missing a year before, but then workers found her body buried in her old backyard. The texts, emails, and notes continued, threatening to expose our biggest secrets. And then a year later, we found out that A was Mona Vanderwaal, our classmate in high school and Hanna's best friend. In ninth grade, Mona had been an intellectual dork who yearned to get Alison's attention in the hopes of being invited past the red velvet ropes of popularity. But once Ali disappeared, Mona transformed herself into one of the most popular girls at Rosewood High and became best friends with Hanna. Mona had stolen Alison's diary, read all the secrets she'd written about all her friends, and plotted to ruin our lives in as many ways as she possibly could in revenge for letting Ali tease her. She'd even tried to kill us, going so far as to hitting Hanna with her car and almost pushing me off the cliff past the city limits of Rosewood.

After Mona went to Radley Sanitarium for treatment of a multi-personality disorder, my friends and I thought we were finally safe. But when our senior year of high school started, we began receiving sinister messages from a new A. We followed someone to Ravenswood dressed in a red coat shortly after that, who we believed was helping A, only to find out it was Alison herself and that she'd been alive this whole time, hiding from A for the last two years. Then on the night of our senior prom, the new A had been revealed to be Charles, Jason's identical twin brother who he'd been separated from and Alison's long-lost older brother, also known as Charles DiLaurentis. The police arrested him for kidnapping and holding me, my friends, and Mona Vanderwaal hostage in a Dollhouse-themed building for three weeks, after he'd tried–and failed–to jump off the roof of Radley.

Five years had passed since Charles had been locked up in the Welby State Psychiatric Hospital and A had vanished for good. My friends and I hadn't gotten any more notes from A and we'd slowly adjusted to our new lives and dream careers. For a while, I was a mess after Charles was arrested–it was hard to believe A wasn't still out there lurking in the shadows, waiting until the next perfect moment to taunt me with another creepy text. But as time went on, I grew used to the silence and the custom of everyday life. The nightmares slowly faded away. I stopped sleeping with the lamplight on. I started receiving high marks in all my college classes again. But a big part of that had been Toby Cavanaugh, my first love.

We broke up in the middle of my sophomore year of college, which had in turn crippled me. The distance had been hard on both of us, with me being away at school and Toby's job as a police officer in Rosewood. And Toby wanted more in our relationship than I'd been willing to offer. Losing him was unbearable. I didn't want to admit that he was the reason I couldn't sleep anymore and that I could no longer breathe, but he was. The last time he'd stayed away for this long was when he'd left town after I found out he'd joined the A Team to protect me.

I missed Toby terribly. I missed playing Scrabble with him and seeing the smug triumph in his eyes when he beat me. It had made me so angry, but now I would give anything to have that back. And I especially missed him in light of what was happening with Charles. Toby knew about A and what Charles had done to my friends and I in the Dollhouse, and I needed him here with me right now to comfort me, to know that he cared. But instead, I felt alone and scared.

I went back to work in the days that followed our devastating breakup, but my head had felt too fuzzy to recall. It felt like time was moving fast and I was standing still, unable to move forward. That day with Toby in my dorm room felt like it had happened ages ago. All I wanted was to talk to him, really talk to him, and to see his face, but I knew that wasn't possible. This was the end; I could feel it. It was over between us. I turned to alcohol for solace, drinking my sorrows away until I passed out, crying nonstop throughout the night. I spent the rest of my time looking through old photos of Toby and I and slept all day. The nightmares returned, only I had them every night now. Toby would leave me, and I searched for him in an endless maze of hallways in the college dorms. I would get more frantic as more time wore on, trying to run faster through the halls to find him. Then I realized that Toby was gone, that I had nothing, and I woke up screaming.

Time went on. Even when it seemed impossible, even when it hurt too much to move. And it broke my heart all over again knowing that Toby was moving on without me, leaving me numb from the inescapable pain, with unhealed wounds that continued to bleed and throb. Even the sound of his name unleashed a sharp, dull pain inside of me that knocked me breathless with astonishing force. It was too much to handle. I couldn't breathe without him.

My behavior had been unresponsive for the last three years since Toby and I split up. Nothing had changed for me. Although I hadn't missed a day of work and my organization skills were perfect, my mind was elsewhere. I never went out anymore. The only person I did see was Caleb Rivers, Toby's best friend and Hanna's ex-boyfriend, who'd come out to D.C. on more than a few occasions. But even then, I was still missing Toby. I didn't have the appetite to eat anything, and when I did, they were leftovers from my refrigerator. Every time I imagined Toby meeting a girl back in Rosewood and falling in love with her, my heart broke all over again and I drank some more wine. My whole body was numb.

Now, I was living somewhat comfortably in Georgetown, Washington D.C., a city that sprawled with successful politicians and wealthy bankers. After graduating from the University of Georgetown with a Bachelors' degree, I'd quickly gotten a job as an organization lobbyist at the Canon House Office on Capitol Hill. But something felt missing inside, empty. It was like a huge hole had been punched through my chest, freezing my heart in the process. Waves of pain washed over me and pulled me down. After I lost Toby, I never resurfaced.

I looked back down at the letter in my hands and began to read:

 _Dear Spencer,_

 _There isn't much time, but I wanted you to see these words on paper and not a screen. I wanted to know you were touching something I touched, that we were connected. We've been through things no other friends have experienced. We understand each other better than anybody else in the world can. But that all connects us to someone else. Someone I love. Someone who needs me._ _And I know you're coming back to Rosewood to speak to the court about Charles being released. I'm asking five minutes with you. Five minutes to explain. Five minutes that can change the whole world. Spencer, I need you. Please._

 _All my love, Alison._

I laid the letter in my lap, noting Ali's familiar, clear and flawless script on the page. I imagined Alison writing this, her hand trembling with each letter. I could see her frown as she wrote down the words onto paper, crumpling her forehead with worry.

My eyes glistening with unexpected tears, I stood up from the bench and made my way across the street to my Toyota Highlander. I fumbled for my keys in my purse and manually unlocked the door, then slid into the leather seat.

The large, modern houses flashed by as I drove to my street. The cobblestone pathways were covered in red and orange autumn leaves that had fallen from the trees, announcing the beginning of fall. And rich, flashy hotels towered over the other buildings. Finally, I pulled up in front of the red brick building of my small, one-bedroom apartment. On the front steps, I turned the key in the door and walked inside. The lights were turned off, empty glasses scattered around a half-full bottle of wine just as I had left it. The walls of the apartment were painted a soft beige with mahogany hardwood floors, had a guest and master bedroom, and a balcony that overlooked the Meridian Hill Park. There was only one small bathroom next to the master bedroom. The bentwood-style rocking chair Toby had made me sat in the corner by my bedroom window, carved and shined to fit my body perfectly.

When I finished packing my suitcase in my room, I headed to the bathroom to gather the rest of my things for the plane flight to Rosewood. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I ran a brush through the thick curtain of my long, dark-brown hair. My cheeks were flushed with pink against my ivory skin, and my chocolate-brown eyes looked slightly bloodshot from crying. I'd always been lean and slender, but soft, with a pointed chin, supple pink lips, and a small chest. The only thing that had changed about me were the choppy-cut bangs that covered most of my forehead.

Charles' hearing was set to start next week. My friends and I would have to speak to the judge about his recovery at Welby Hospital, and if we felt safe enough for him to be released after everything he'd done to us in the Dollhouse. And while it would be scarier to talk about what each of us went through, at least this meant the ordeal would finally be over.

Maybe if I was tan, blonde, and had blue eyes with a bigger chest I wouldn't have lost Toby. But physically, I'd never stand out in Rosewood. I was just another preppy, Coach-toting brainiac that Rosewood boys were too intimidated to approach. But when I was with Toby, he made me feel beautiful and sexy. He brought out the best in me, making me more relaxed and care less about winning all the time, and compelled me to try to do the right thing even when it was hard. I discovered a part of me that I hadn't known existed. Someone that was alive and free. He'd even taught me how to cut wood with a power saw and how to jumpstart a car when my car broke down. Without Toby, I felt lost.

But none of that mattered now. I was no longer the same girl I was back then. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.

I sat at the bar of the lounge in the Washington National Airport terminal, drinking a Pomegranate Martini, dreading the trip to Rosewood. In one of the back tables inside the lounge, a group of handsome older men admired my long, shapely bare legs beneath my pink cape coat and snickered to each other.

I suddenly regretted changing into a black mini dress, thinking I'd sit alone at the bar while I drank martinis. Sighing, I took out my phone from my black leather Kate Spade purse and scrolled through my list of contacts, looking for Hanna's number, when I saw Toby's name at the top. _Toby Cavanaugh_.

There was a picture of Toby right next to his cell phone number. Tousled dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, full pink lips. I stared sadly at the photo. I missed him so much, it made my heart ache. I considered calling him, but then quickly decided against it. He wouldn't want to talk to me after the way I'd treated him.

I fidgeted with the gold Scrabble tile necklace from around my neck. Toby had given it to me on our anniversary five years ago with the money from the lawsuit over his mother's murder at Radley Sanitarium, the hospital where she'd been admitted for depression. The letter _S_ was engraved onto the tile on a delicate gold chain. It was the most romantic gift anyone had ever given me.

I pictured him sprawled out on his couch in his loft in Rosewood, where we used to spend hours making out. Across the terminal, an elderly couple held hands while they onto the moving sidewalk. A few feet away, a pretty blonde was kissing her tall, dark-haired boyfriend in the middle of the aisle. My eyes turned glassy with tears.

The speaker overhead inside the lounge announced that my flight was leaving soon. I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears with my fingers, trying to pull myself together. I pulled out a couple bills for the tab and walked down the corridor to the awaiting plane.

It was an hour flight from Georgetown to Philadelphia, and then would be another hour on the drive up to Rosewood. My mother, a successful lawyer in Rosewood, had been thrilled that I was staying in town, though the living situation wasn't permanent. She was running for state senator. Her campaign had kicked off only a few weeks ago, but it was already all over the news and she had a great chance at winning. Unless, of course, Veronica's competitor, Christine Phillips, took advantage of Charles' hearing this week and used it against her.

When I landed in Philadelphia, I hailed a taxi cab outside along the curb, climbed into the backseat, and gave the driver the address to The Brew, Rosewood's little café and bookstore that Aria's ex-boyfriend and former high school English teacher owned. My old friends and I had plans to meet there after each of our flights. "I need to get to Rosewood."

"Sure thing," he said.

I only had a few bags, stuffed with my most valuable possessions–my clothes, shoes, my laptop, books, and a few of Toby's shirts that I couldn't bear to part with. Most of my clothes were too political for social outings with my friends, in preparation for my mother's senate run appearances. Luckily, I had packed some of my warmer D.C. clothes. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cab.

I sat back against the seat, trying not to look out the window as the familiar town rushed past me. Everything in Rosewood reminded me of the past I wanted to forget. There was the Rosewood Grille, where I used to spend hours with my friends in high school. There was the stone-gated country club that my parents belonged to–I'd met Alex Santiago there, who worked at the Club, and asked him out on a date. Although, 2 months later, A signed him up for a tennis scholarship in Sweden pretending that I had done it, and he broke things off, furious that I would go behind his back. There was the stark white, triangular-shaped church that my older sister Melissa's deceased husband, Ian Thomas, had tried to push me off from inside the bell tower.

And then there was the Edgewood Motor Court Motel where Toby and I shared our first kiss. As the cab paused at a red light, I stared at the familiar motel. It was a two-story, U-shaped building painted in a bland beige, and small palm trees were planted along the exterior. Not much had changed since the last time I'd been here. I could only look for so long before cutting my eyes away. In D.C., there were days where I could almost forget about A, the secrets my friends and I shared, and everything that happened. I'd only been back in Rosewood for less than an hour, and already I could hear Toby's voice as clear as bells in my ears, whispering words of comfort, and see his face floating around in my head. I could see him shaking his head at me in disapproval as I poured myself yet another cup of coffee, or when I was about to commit a thoughtless, reckless act. It was like a punch to the gut.

I slumped down in my seat, willing myself not to cry. The cab driver continued down a few streets and pulled up to the curb on the Main Road.

"Here we are," he announced.

I handed him four twenties and stepped out of the cab. Then, suddenly remembering my bags in the trunk, I leaned over the window. "I'm going to be a while. Can you take my bags to my mom's house?"

"Sure," he answered. "But that'll be another fifty."

I gave him a fifty-dollar bill out of my purse. The cabbie slowly pulled away from the street and rejoined traffic, driving east.

I took a deep breath. I needed to clear my head first before facing my old friends again. I walked through Rosewood's streets, unsure of where I was headed, allowing my anxiety to push me forward. I looked around at the various hardware stores and coffee shops, including a few law firm office buildings that had signs out front encouraging people to hire one of their private attorneys. The town was filled with craftsman-style and ageless Victorian houses, tall, lush pine trees, and countryside family-run farms. It had upscale shopping boutiques, fancy restaurants, trendy spas, and gorgeous boys in that typical Abercrombie way. In a town where everything looked so pristine and perfect, it was hard to believe anyone could have been murdered here. Two little blonde girls ran through the park ahead, frolicking in an overgrown patch of grass. Outside Leon's Cupcakes, high school students loitered nearby.

Being back here made me a little nervous. Instantly, numerous emotions and memories overwhelmed me: The fall I thought I'd been betrayed by Toby, Mona stalking my friends and I when she was A, the fire at the Thornhill Lodge when Red Coat tried to kill us, the shocking revelation that Ali was alive, the book Ezra wrote to expose Alison for all her manipulation and lies and had used Aria to do it. I thought about Mona and Charles and Toby's step-sister, Jenna. I thought about Toby, remembering the spring we'd fallen in love, of him professing his love for me at the police station after I'd gotten arrested. It had been so long ago that I felt like a completely different person now in comparison to who I was back then.

Thankfully, I had gotten accepted into Georgetown University just before I graduated from Rosewood High and moved to Washington D.C. a month following the disaster of Charles' identity. I'd vowed not to think about A again the minute the JFK plane took off, and after living peacefully in Georgetown for a few months with frequent visits from Toby, Rosewood became a far off memory. Toby and I grew apart, but I never fell in love again after him. Nobody ever seemed good enough compared to Toby.

I walked around endlessly for fifteen minutes before realizing how far I'd gone, surprising myself. I followed my footsteps back toward Main Street hastily. After crossing the street, I began to glimpse the store windows along the sidewalk. I stood in front of the door to The Brew, beckoning me, promising caffeine and comfort.

But then a sob caught in my throat. The last time I'd been at The Brew was when Toby and I were dating.

Just as I was reaching for the door, someone else was going in. "Oops," the person cried.

"Sorry," we both said in unison.

Then I looked up. It was Aria Montgomery, wearing a gray T-shirt underneath a blue and white embroidered cropped jacket, black jeans, and black Chanel flats. Her dark brown hair was cut bluntly to her neck. We stared at each other for a few seconds then burst out laughing.

"Aria, hi," I said.

I leaned in to hug the small girl, and we held onto each other tightly. Although Aria was short and petite, she was pretty with her dark hair, hazel eyes, and pouty lips.

Aria pulled out of the hug and smiled at me. "How's D.C.?"

"Great," I lied.

Aria grabbed my hand and gave it a good squeeze. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me, too." I smiled.

Finally, we entered The Brew. The coffee shop was filled with bookshelves of mystery, fantasy, and sci-fi novels and a large, long counter held jars of coffee beans and various desserts by the front door. Plushly lined armchairs and sectional couches and sofas were arranged around the staircase that led upstairs to the loft. Something squeezed at my chest thinking of Toby's old apartment. He'd moved in there during the summer before my senior year of high school started, landing a steady construction job in Rosewood so that he could live away from his messed up family. We'd spent nearly our entire existence in that loft, snuggling up on the couch as we watched old romantic movies, making love in the bedroom, and kissing heatedly in every inch of the place.

I heard three girls' familiar laughter bouncing off the walls of the café, breaking me out of my memory. I looked over and saw Hanna, Emily, and Jess hugging, shrieking with excitement. Hanna looked flawless and gorgeous in a cut-out white jacket and matching white print skirt, with a dove-colored camisole underneath. Her pale blonde hair had grown out again that cascaded in beautiful waves down her shoulders, and her ice-blue eyes were big and bright. Jess was traffic-stopping beautiful with her tall, slender frame, perfect olive-colored skin, doe brown eyes, pretty bow-shaped pink lips, and long, dark brown hair that spilled over her shoulders. She wore a long-sleeved, navy blue floral-print dress paired with black suede ankle boots, and her hair cut across her forehead in side swept bangs.

I turned to Emily and looked her over. Emily was tall with a thin, but curvy body frame, had caramel-colored skin, long, raven-black hair, and a perfectly prominent chest. She wore a denim jacket; ripped skinny jeans; and black folded-over combat boots, a dramatic change from her old wardrobe of hoodies and plain T-shirts. Emily always had large breasts–she and Hanna were the only two of my friends who could fill a C-size cup bra. Hanna always flaunted hers to catch the attention of cute boys, but Emily barely seemed to notice she even had boobs.

Being apart for so long, I'd worried about how I would react to seeing my old friends again. After the rest of us moved away to college, Aria found her passion in writing and started working in publishing. And she fell in love again with a guy named Liam, who happened to be in the same publishing company as her, but was also working with Ezra on his new book. Hanna meanwhile moved to New York with Caleb to work in fashion. She interned for Zac Posen where she met her job mentor and boss, Claudia. After she and Caleb broke up, Hanna spent some time in Europe and met another fashion designer, Jordan, and they fell in love. After three months of dating, Jordan finally proposed, and he and Hanna became engaged. Emily went to school at Pepperdine in California, but during the middle of her freshman year, her dad died in the U.S. Army. And therefore, it took her a year longer to finish college than she had originally planned due to the grief over her father's death. Now, Emily became involved with medical research of cures for different diseases and began working there as a voluntary test subject. And Jess studied art at Yale after scoring a scholarship, and then later spent a year abroad in Paris, later becoming one of the most talented painters in Manhattan at the trendiest and prestigious art gallery in the city. She even fell in love…with the older brother that Ali and I shared, Jason DiLaurentis. As soon as the two moved to New York together, they decided to put the past behind them and forgot about A completely. As for me, Toby and I broke up for good, making me more determined to make it big on Capitol Hill. I kept telling myself it was a good distraction from my heartbreak. Toby ended up inheriting a ton of money after his old house exploded. But not even the three-acre property that he bought outside of Rosewood to build his dream home was enough to save our relationship. Toby stayed in Rosewood while I lived in D.C., and the distance between us became too much.

"Oh, get a room," I cried. "Ew!"

"We will need a bigger room," Hanna said, pulling out of Emily and Jess' hug.

As Hanna and I hugged, Emily moved over to Aria and wrapped her arms around her. I squeezed Hanna extra hard, and I could smell the scent of her Chloé perfume filling my nose.

I went over to Jess next, throwing my arms around her. She held me back tightly. "Ah, I missed you!" she cried.

After everyone finished hugging, Aria attached her phone to a selfie stick and snapped dozens of photos as we all squeezed in together, capturing every precious moment together. For the last shot, I held the camera, and we all hugged again.

Finally, Hanna, Emily, Aria, and Jess and I settled onto the sofa in the back of the café. I turned to Hanna. "Any hints about the fall collection?" I asked, referring to the Prada designer company where Hanna worked ambitiously as a fashion designer.

"My non-disclosure agreement is eight pages long," Hanna explained. "Claudia would literally chase me down the runway with an ax if I let anything slip."

"Let me see this." Aria reached for Hanna's hand with the three-karat diamond engagement ring resting on her index finger, glimmering with several sparkles under the overhead lights. "It looks bigger then when you posted it."

Everyone chuckled, and I peeked at Hanna. She looked flushed and happy.

"Jess is next," Hanna teased.

Jess blushed. "That's light years away."

"C'mon, you and Jason have been together for five years," she pointed out. "And you're telling me you two haven't at least thought about marriage?"

Jess' cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, looking serene and euphoric. "Hey, I'm happy where we are now."

"Yeah, but happy isn't going to get you a mansion and a trust fund. Jason's gorgeous, rich, crazy about you. What are you waiting for?"

"So I'm guessing we'll all need our passports to attend the wedding," Emily piped up, saving Jess. She shot Emily a grateful look.

"What we're talking about is several hot nations," Hanna said. "But Italy is a strong contender."

"I met a nice Italian girl once," Emily chimed in.

"No wonder it took you a year longer to finish college," Aria joked.

"How's the Salk Institute?" I asked Emily.

An uneasy look passed over Emily's face. "Uh, good. I'm still trying to find my way around."

"All that great Louis Kahn architecture," I said dreamily. "I want a tour."

The Salks Institute was a non-profit organization well-known for its involvement with molecular biology, genetics, medical research, and their picturesque architecture. Once upon a time, I'd wanted to be an architect designer, something that Toby and I both shared. But that had been so long ago…

"They're not doing tours right now, but…" Emily paused.

"How's Liam?" Hanna interrupted, turning to Aria with interest.

"Liam is adorable," Aria answered giddily. "But he hates when I tell people that." She turned to me. "Who is Spencer seeing?"

I felt my cheeks grow hot. "Spencer is too busy to see anybody," I lied.

The truth was, after Toby and I broke up, I didn't date anyone for a really long time, nothing serious anyway. It felt like my heart had stopped and I'd grown numb. Nothing ever measured up to him. I even tried dating the ambassador's son, Chad Chambers, who was known for his magnificent green eyes and charming and compelling personality. But ultimately, we called it off because he'd been with other girls while he was still seeing me. And I couldn't go through with dating. I couldn't feel anything with anyone else. Nothing ever stuck–my heart was still with Toby.

"What about the ambassador's son?" Hanna asked me.

"Regime change." I turned to Jess. "Did Jason come with you after you got the message?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but I told him he didn't have to. The gallery is being really nice about postponing my art show. We're staying at the barn until things with Charles gets settled."

"So this court thing, are we going to be under oath?" Emily asked suddenly.

"No oath," I replied. "It's just about how we feel about Charles getting out."

"No, tell the truth," Aria disagreed. "It is about A getting out."

"Five A-free years," Hanna mused. "You have to admit, that felt good."

"I mean, a lot has happened," I added, "good, bad and ugly, but all of it was uncontaminated by A." I thought of Toby torturously, old memories rushing back to the surface, and my chest ached with emptiness again. I still hadn't opened up to any of my friends about Toby and I falling apart. How could I when it hurt just to think about him?

"And now A wants to go home," Emily muttered glumly.

Everyone fell silent. Alison had been petitioning the court to release Charles out of the hospital since the day he was locked up. He did, after all, kidnap, starve, and torture us in that Dollhouse. But something about the hearing looming ahead still made me uneasy. After everything that Charles had put us through, I couldn't bare the thought of him walking around freely in Rosewood, even if I was thousands of miles away in Washington D.C.

"What are we going to do?" Aria asked after a moment.

I met her eyes directly. "We go drop off our bags and we go meet Ali at four o'clock and listen to what she has to say."

The girls couldn't see it, but on the inside I was shaking.

Later that afternoon, I stood at the granite-topped island in my parents' spacious kitchen next to my mother, Veronica Hastings, as her senator's campaign commercial came onto the TV screen.

The ad opened with a photo of Ms. Hastings from the pictures she'd taken for the campaign posters, set against a red, blue, and white American flag background. "Hastings for State Senate," Gil, Veronica's campaign manager and assistant, announced off-screen. "The clear, true voice."

"I'm Veronica Hastings and I approve this message," Ms. Hastings said into the camera.

The commercial ended, and my mom flipped off the TV.

"The flag's a really nice touch," I noted moodily, still feeling upset over Toby. "I never would have thought of it."

My mother met my eyes. "Don't be cynical, Spencer."

"Where's dad?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"In Harrisburg, raising money," my mother replied.

"The family that campaigns together stays together," I quoted bitterly.

After my parents decided to get a divorce five years ago, my mom kicked my father out of the house and he bought a loft in Harrisburg. Mona-as-A had exposed the horrible secret about my family: that my dad had an affair with Ali's mother and that Jason was my half-brother. I'd confronted my mother about it, only to discover that she'd known all along and hadn't done anything. Until, that is, she found out my dad had been keeping dangerous secrets from her, that Melissa had buried a girl alive, his secret conversations with Mrs. DiLaurentis and how he'd tried to pay her off to keep quiet about the night Ali disappeared. He'd claimed it was to 'protect' me from getting blamed for Alison's death. My family was broken and this time it wasn't because of A. It was all my dad's fault.

"Your father is a campaign twister and we won the cash," Ms. Hastings said. "It's an off-year special election, winning might come down, too, if it rains that day and people decide to stay home."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, now who's being cynical?"

"It's your fault I'm doing this," my mom teased. "You got involved in government first. You inspired me."

"I watch the government. I keep it honest. That's what I do."

"Sweetheart, you work for a lobbyist."

"No, we are not lobbyists," I disagreed. "We work with grassroots political organizations to advance progressive legislation."

My mom looked at me skeptically. "Mm-hmm. You're a lobbyist. And your mother is going to be a state senator."

We smiled at each other, and something warm and tender passed between us.

I beamed at her. "I'm so proud of you." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

Then my mother hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around her. And for the first time since being back, I felt safe.

I pulled out of the hug after a moment. "I have to go see Toby."

"Okay, sweetheart. Drive safe." She kissed my forehead.

"I will."

I didn't know what the hell I was doing as I drove along the wide, country road outside of town to Toby's home, twisting through the thick forest. Was I trying to get myself hurt again? I should be staying as far away from Toby as I could, but I continued driving towards him anyway. It wasn't until I crossed the river onto the bridge and turned onto an unpaved road that I realized my hands were shaking.

My heart capsulated in my throat thinking about seeing Toby again. I knew I should turn around and leave. I had no reason to see him. After all, it had been years–he'd probably forgotten about me and the love we once shared. And so much could have happened while we were apart, things I didn't even want to consider. But it had been a long time and I wanted to surprise him.

I knew that part of the reason I was going to see Toby was because I couldn't help myself. It was like a bad habit I couldn't break; no matter how dangerous it was, I kept barreling towards that irresistible lure, uncaring of the outcome. Now that I was really here, I could see him, touch him. Still unattainable, but he was there.

The other part was a memory I couldn't make myself forget–maybe if I hadn't stepped onto his front porch that day, none of us would be in so much pain. We could've avoided it all entirely. Maybe if I hadn't tutored him, things would have turned out differently. But I couldn't make myself regret falling in love with Toby; I couldn't lose my feelings for him.

His words echoed in my head, as if I was still there with him, reliving that horrible day.

 _I feel like when we're picturing our future together, we're not looking at the same picture anymore_. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to abide the agony, but I felt my eyes fill with tears and the throbbing around the edges of the gaping hole deepened in my chest. I inhaled deeply, trying to breathe even though I had no lungs. I had to learn to breathe without them.

 _Breathe, Spencer_.

I suddenly wished I could feel numb again. Anything would be better than enduring the unbearable pain of losing Toby. But the truth was that I wanted to see him again, to hear his voice again the way I used to. And when I was with him, I was able to remember who I was, not the pale echo of the woman I'd become.

It felt like the drive went on for hours rather than ten minutes, making me anxious. The towering, lush pine trees no longer looked familiar anymore. Now they were thick with overgrown moss draped over the trunks like a veil, and branches that seemed to stretch out crookedly for miles like long, gnarly fingernails. The dirt road wound itself in several different directions. And as I rounded a curve in the road, my heart lurched with old memories of sitting next to Toby on a rock boulder atop the hill that looked down at the town below, who had looked at me with such a longing in his eyes that it took my breath away.

And then I found the break in the trees and I finally saw him.

He was working with a chainsaw on a wooden frame, wearing a toolbelt that rested on his hips. Toby had always been good with his hands. When we were together, he used to remodel homes and replaced floorboards and put in new carpet. He even drew his own designs.

I parked my car–a silver Toyota Highlander–a few feet away and got out. I walked behind Toby slowly without taking my eyes off him.

Toby was a year older than me, tall and lean, but still muscular with a strong chest and well-formed abs. His dark wavy hair was tousled to perfection, making him look more like an Abercrombie model than he had a right to, and he had high cheekbones and deep blue eyes that would make any girl swoon.

When he turned around, his face broke out into a huge, beautiful smile. "H-hey!" he stuttered, and I knew he was as nervous as I was.

I grinned back. "Hey!" My stomach flipped over giddily with butterflies, happy to see him again.

Toby put down the chainsaw and started towards me. I went to him, and he pulled me in close, wrapping his arms around me in a big hug, squeezing me tightly. And when I buried my face into his hair, I could feel his heart beating against my chest.

Toby pulled away, though his hands rested on my shoulders, refusing to let me go. "When did you get here?"

"Uh, just a couple of hours ago," I answered. There was a short pause.

I moved over to a large drafting table and stared at the plan sheet that Toby was making, which looked to be of a house. A familiar blueprint drawing of a master bedroom caught my eye–it was the same design of the house we had talked about having one day.

"Wow!" I said. "This is really impressive."

"I–I, uh," Toby stammered bashfully, "I just wanted to see if I could do it."

"How's it going?" I asked.

"Ah, it's harder than I thought. I curse a lot. It's very therapeutic." He lifted his eyes to mine, and my stomach fluttered like a thousand butterflies were battering around in my ribcage. "How's Washington?"

"Um, I curse a lot," I joked back. "It's very therapeutic."

Toby chuckled, a deep, warm sound, and I found myself laughing freely with him. I'd forgotten how easy it was with Toby.

He hesitated. "Uh, Caleb said he saw you there."

"Oh, yeah? You guys talk?" My heart sped up, feeling a swarm of guilty feelings. Toby and Caleb became friends towards the beginning of spring in twelfth grade, when they worked together to find out who'd been flying the plane the night of the fire at the Thornhill Lodge, quickly bonding over their similar complicated feelings about their messed up families and the intense love they felt for Hanna and I, often relying on their stubbornness to drive them. Toby and Caleb had been inseparable ever since. Both boys were different, but alike in so many ways. While Toby was more level-headed and kind, Caleb was impulsive, acting before thinking things through. After that, Hanna and I made a pact to never date each other's exes. Hanna said it would make our friendship stronger and keep us from breaking apart.

Toby flushed. "Uh, now and then. We went, uh, we went fishing last summer."

I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. We're the brotherhood of ex-boyfriends. We gotta stick together." He paused. "So, you're in town for your mom's campaign?"

"No, uh, I got a request from the State of Pennsylvania. They would like my opinion on something." For some inexplicable reason, I felt the sense that he was feeling guilty about something.

"Ali's trying to get Charles out of the hospital," Toby said.

"Yeah. We're here to talk to the court."

"We?" Toby crossed his arms over his chest, emphasizing how muscular his chest was. The short sleeves of his navy-blue shirt were stretched out against his biceps, and his forearms were hard and more muscular since the last time I'd seen him. Had he been working out?

"Aria, Hanna, Em and me," I answered, trying to distract myself from ogling him.

He smiled. "All of you in one place at one time. When's the last time that happened in Rosewood?"

I smiled back. "Long time."

"But when Alison flashes the bat signal…" he trailed off.

I looked at him. "It's not like that. You know we're still friends and we're not just, 'let's go see a movie and have dinner' kinda friends, but the 'I saved your life and you saved mine' kinda friends."

Toby shook his head yes, understanding.

"You know," I pointed out. "You were there."

"How long are you gonna be here for?" Toby asked, changing the subject.

"Well, the hearing's tomorrow, and then…" I peeked at him curiously. "And then I don't really know."

Toby's eyes gleamed. "Can I…buy you a dinner before you leave?" He looked nervous.

My heart thudded. Was he asking me out on a date?

"Yeah. Sure, we can do that," I stuttered. "Um, I–I should go, though. I'm supposed to meet Ali. And I'm already late. So, I'll call you, okay? Still the same number?"

"Same number," Toby smiled.

"Cool," I said awkwardly.

But as I started to head back for my car, the nagging suspicion that had been plaguing my thoughts resurfaced, and I stopped and looked back at Toby.

I gave him a knowing smile. "Toby, who are you building the house for?"

He turned around and looked at me quizzically. "What makes you think I'm building it for somebody?"

I plastered a smile onto my face, hoping he didn't notice the sadness in my voice. "Because I know you."

The corners of Toby's lips slowly spread up into a sweet grin in response. Then his smile faded and he opened his lips, looking like he was about to say something else. But I turned and walked away before Toby could see me cry in front of him.

 _It feels like we're not looking at the same picture anymore_. The words echoed in my head again, cutting through me like a knife. It had been so long ago, yet they still had the power to hurt me so deeply.

I didn't know how much longer I could bear this. Losing Toby was like losing a part of myself. Maybe someday the pain would lessen over time and I would look back on those memories and remember him as the greatest, big beautiful love of my life. And when I could finally breathe again, I might actually feel grateful for the precious gift he'd given of loving me. Which was more than I deserved.

But what if the pain of that heartbreak never went away? What if I never fully healed?

I tried to hold myself together. _We didn't see the same future anymore,_ I thought in despair. What a stupid and ridiculous thought! How could he think we weren't meant for each other? He could build a house and pretend our relationship didn't mean anything to him, but that would never change how I felt about him. It wouldn't make me stop loving him. And then it became clear to me that I couldn't live without Toby. He was the best thing I ever had. Living without Toby was like trying to survive without an arm or a leg, and when the pain was throbbing so bad, you had to numb yourself just to feel normal again.

Over the years, I'd become the kind of person I could hardly recognize. I couldn't breathe, eat, or sleep except when I thought of how Toby and I fell apart. I even started drinking to try to numb the sharp, dull pain, but it only slowed it down. Drinking was the only thing that kept me going. And I looked different, too. My face was sallow and zombie-like now, white except for the dark circles under my eyes from my nightmares. I was not beautiful, and Toby didn't want me anymore.

With the loss of my moral compass, what was the point of doing the right thing or staying safe? Who cared if I got hurt? I was a lost cause now. I had no reason to care about what happened to me anymore. And Toby certainly wasn't going to stop me.

So what if I had to act a little reckless to feel better? Anything would be better than the raw, empty numbness. I was tired of being Spencer Hastings–perfect, smart, in control. That girl was safe and organized in everything she did. I didn't want to be safe anymore. It wouldn't be hard to be reckless in Rosewood. It hadn't always been a quiet and harmless little town. On the outside, Rosewood looked picture-perfect with gorgeous million-acre mansions, rambling old farms, their quaint village shopping center, and expansive seventeenth-century estates. But on the inside it was filled with darkness and blood. I was sure I could find danger some way…

I stared out the windshield of my car on the drive to meet Ali and the girls, not really looking at anything–I couldn't seem to make my thoughts of Toby go away. When I arrived at Rosewood High's entrance, the school where my friends and I had all gone since ninth grade, I pulled into one of the vacant lots at the end of the building and cut the engine. Parked a couple spots away, I noticed a silver Mercedes-Benz. I recognized the car from The Brew–it was Hanna's. I checked my Apple watch. I was fifteen minutes late.

Ali was going to kill me for sure.

I stepped through the front doors inside the school and my buried memories of the past overwhelmed me: excitement over Toby sweetly surprising me at school with lunch, the tender way he'd brush the strands of hair out of my face before putting his helmet on my head before taking me for a ride on his motorcycle, joy over seeing him when he'd pick me up from school, kissing him passionately in the truck I'd bought him until it felt like my lips would fall off.

I walked down the wide hallway of the east wing. Ali's classroom was in the middle of the hall, across from rows of grey metal lockers. Aria, Emily, Hanna, and Jess all turned as I hesitated in the doorway.

Ali's huge blue eyes lit up when she saw me. Her long blonde hair was pulled off her face in soft beach waves, and she was wearing a powder blue sweater tucked underneath a floral-print A line skirt. Ali was an English teacher at our old school after she'd graduated from Hollis College with a bachelor's degree in high school education. She'd been living in Rosewood for the last five years while the rest of us had gone our separate ways. Ali used to be the Queen Bee of Rosewood High. She was perfect, beautiful, witty, smart, popular. Girls would have killed to be Alison, and practically every boy in school wanted to kiss her. But when A started hunting Alison and terrorizing her, being the Queen Bee suddenly didn't seem so important anymore.

The corners of Ali's mouth curled into a smile. "You're here. I didn't think you were coming."

"Yeah, sorry," I said. "I got distracted and lost track of the time." I moved to stand beside Hanna, who was leaning against one of the desks.

Ali fidgeted nervously. "Charles is getting the help he never had when he was little," she started. "Five years of treatment, undoing all the damage. I visit him, I spend time with him. He even stayed at my house for a weekend last Christmas."

Hanna looked at her disbelievingly. "They let him out?"

"It was a supervised visit," Alison explained.

"So Charles is all better now," I said. "What does this have to do with us?"

"At the hearing tomorrow, the judge will decide if he should be released," Ali replied. "And they want to hear from people who were involved."

"Victims statements." It wasn't a question.

"Statements of support," Ali corrected. "Statements that he isn't a threat to anybody. That you guys are not afraid of him anymore."

A long, awkward silence fell over the six of us. Finally, Alison spoke again.

"There is no reason to be afraid," she went on. "You know him. You heard his story. We all went through this together."

"Yes we did," Aria said strongly. "We have the scars to prove it, too."

"You're asking us to give a get-out-of-jail free card to someone who tried to kill us," Hanna said right after.

"He's in a hospital, Hanna," Ali reminded her. "He's not in jail."

"He's lucky," Aria said bitterly, referring to the many times we'd been arrested because of A.

"And we're lucky to be alive," Emily added.

Ali looked into her eyes. "That's why your statements would mean so much."

"Who else is speaking?" I asked her.

"Mona demanded to be heard," she answered. "She's going to talk to the judge about the Dollhouse and being tortured."

"What about Sara Harvey?" Hanna questioned.

Sara Harvey was a girl who Toby and the police had found trapped inside the Dollhouse the night they'd rescued us from Charles, seemingly one of the victims that Jason's twin brother had kept captive for two years. But in a shocking twist of events, Charles revealed to Ali that Sara had secretly been helping him the whole time, spying on us, stealing information from our phones. Sara had even gone as far as to implant microchips into the back of our necks while we were sleeping in our fake bedrooms inside the Dollhouse. And what was worse: Charles paid her to stir up trouble for our parents just to keep the police off his radar.

But Emily was the one who had been hurt the most. She cared about Sara, as more than just a friend, and Emily thought Sara felt the same way about her, only to have her heart broken once again. Just as Sara was about to set off a bomb inside the basement at Radley, out of anger and betrayal, Emily punched her and Sara fell onto the battery, electrocuting her. Sara's hands became paralyzed afterwards, and she blamed us for what happened to her. The girls and I felt a mixture of relief that we'd finally stopped Charles and also guilt that we'd hurt someone in the midst of it all.

Ali frowned. "What about her?"

"Well, suppose we do talk to the judge…" Aria began slowly. "They march in Sara Harvey. She gives a few choice words about what happened to her that night at Radley?"

"She's not allowed to testify because of how her criminal charges were resolved."

"Why isn't Jason here?" I asked.

"He doesn't agree with Dr. Rollins and me," Ali responded.

Jess nodded knowingly, but didn't say anything. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet.

"Okay, you realize what you're asking us to do," Emily told her. "You want us to forgive Charles."

"I don't care if you forgive him," she said honestly. "I'm asking you to give me my only chance at a real family."

I exhaled softly through my lips, feeling uneasy and queasy about the seriousness of this situation. Ali was asking us to lie for her _again_. And this time it was for A. There were things I'd done that I wasn't proud of, but there was no way I was going to lie for the person who'd stalked and tried to kill me. My life was finally normal now, and I had no intention of screwing that up just so Charles could walk freely in Rosewood.

Ali turned to Jess, who still hadn't spoken yet. "Jess, you haven't said anything."

It took Jess a long time to respond, her expression twisting with a conflict of some sort. Ali looked at her hopefully.

"Ali, you're my best friend," she finally said. "And I would do anything for you, you know that. But your brother tormented me in the worst possible way and I don't want him hurting the people that I love. I understand that you want a family, but what about me? What about your friends? This psycho tried to kill us and you want to let him out? I'm sorry, I can't do that." It seemed as though it was hard for Jess to say.

Ali's face fell in disappointment. "I understand," she mumbled sadly.

Hanna lifted her serious blue eyes to Ali's. "Alison, we're here to say how we feel and you're asking us to lie."

"Please, do this," Ali pleaded. "Do this for me."

"Pretty please?" I taunted, suddenly irritated. "With sugar on top."

Ali looked confused. "What?"

"That's what you say on a playground to exact a favor." I stared at her through narrowed eyes. "We're not on the playground anymore, Alison. We haven't been for a long time."

After a long moment passed, Ali looked between me and the others. "Please?"

Everyone had gone quiet. Jess bit her lower lip, looking like she was contemplating a life-altering decision. Aria glanced uncertainly at each of us. Hanna chewed on her nails. Emily released a small sigh. Then, giving up, Alison wordlessly walked out of the room.

Aria, Hanna, Emily, Jess and I looked at each other hopelessly. And suddenly, I wanted to disappear.

"I am not one of those candidates who runs for office telling you how much I hate the government and want to take it apart," Mrs. Hastings said in a strong, sure voice. "Like you, I understand that the size of the problem dictates the size of the solution needed."

Hanna leaned in close to me. "If being honest and truthful is so damn purifying, why do I feel like the bottom of somebody's shoe?"

Aria, Emily, Hanna and I stood among the crowd in City Hall as we watched my mother speak. It was five o'clock, and she was giving her campaign speech for Rosewood's citizens to drum up interest for her senate run. Mrs. Hastings was gaining in the polls, and the hope was that the Pennsylvania state tour and fundraiser she was holding next week would give her an advantage over Christine Phillips.

"Government does the job that only government is big enough to do," Mrs. Hastings continued. The crowd broke out in applause. "Our courts are not the enemy of freedom."

"Look, they have the reports, okay?" I whispered to Hanna, continuing our conversation about Charles' court hearing tomorrow. "They know what Charles did to us when he was A. We don't need to talk about that. All we have to say is that we're not afraid of him. That's all Ali wants. Then we get the hell out of here."

Aria turned to us, looking skeptical. "Is it the truth? That we're not afraid?"

"Maybe it is," Hanna said. "I mean, look at us. We did get away. We won. Maybe we didn't kill the dragon, but we definitely tamed it."

I glanced anxiously at my mom on stage, fidgeting with the large VOTE FOR VERONICA HASTINGS button on the lapel of my navy-blue blazer jacket–I'd worn a professional outfit for my mom's speech with the hopes of appearing put together and _not_ a fragile victim who'd been kidnapped and tormented by a cold-blooded killer. In just a few moments, she was going to be introducing me to the entire Pennsylvania state. I felt faint from nerves. I wondered if any of the people voting for Mrs. Hastings were only doing it because they pitied me.

A hot, uncomfortable feeling swelled in my stomach. After the story went public of Charles' real identity, I couldn't step out of the house without people staring at me and whispering behind my back, exaggerating the rumors beyond proportion. Charles, had not only abducted me and my friends and tortured us with twisted chose-or-lose games, but he'd also impersonated Jason so he could steal Jess away from his twin brother. How could you ever get over something like that? And A knew about my drug addiction. Two years after Ali disappeared, I'd finally discovered what had really happened the night I'd seen her alive, recalling my long-suppressed memory of chasing her in the woods with a shovel, the alleged murder weapon. I'd swung the shovel at her in anger–hard enough to kill her. I'd been so furious with her for threatening to tell Melissa about the kiss her then-boyfriend Ian and I had shared. Then, after my bottle of Adderall pills fell out of my pocket, Alison told me to go back to the barn where the rest of our friends were sleeping obliviously, and I walked away. By the next morning, Ali had gone missing, and since I was the last person to see her alive, the police had pinpointed me as the prime suspect. Any of those things could ruin my mother's campaign.

I turned to Aria and Hanna. "I'll be right back," I mumbled.

As I made my way through the throng of people, I heard a girl's familiar smooth, lilting voice. A pretty girl about my age stood a few feet away. She was short and thin, with long dark hair in contrast to her caramel-colored skin, honey-brown eyes, and luscious lips. The girl wore stood out in a red lace dress, a black blazer, and black six-inch heels. I recognized her as Mona Vanderwaal and stopped.

"Your mom's doing well in the polls for such an untested candidate," Mona complimented.

"Hi, Mona," I said curtly.

She smiled at me sweetly. "I waved at you at the Kennedy Center reception. You didn't see me."

"I'm sorry," I answered unapologetically.

Suspicion stirred in my stomach. Mona may have been tormented by Charles like the rest of us, but I still didn't trust her. During the time that she was A, she'd tried to tear Toby and I apart, ran over Hanna with a car, and tried to frame my friends and I for Alison's murder back when everyone thought that she was dead.

"Look at us, all this time and we both end up in the same business," Mona went on.

"Um, not really," I replied flatly.

"We both sell policy," she pointed out.

"Different kinds of policy," I corrected.

I turned and started to walk away, but Mona stopped me.

"Do you still have nightmares?" she asked.

I looked at her and my skin iced over. How did she know about that?

When I didn't answer, Mona continued. "I do. Three shrinks and a whole lot of prescriptions, but I still have bad dreams. How about you?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer without giving myself away. Ignoring her question, I tore my eyes away and turned back to my mother's speech.

I was having nightmares, but they weren't about Charles or the Dollhouse. They were always of Toby, forgetting about me, being trapped in an endless building of rooms and he couldn't hear me, Toby leaving. Forever leaving me. And the pain in my chest–sharp, raw–reopened the gaping hole the second I fell into unconsciousness. I could dream only of him. Every night, I'd fall into a deep sleep of nothingness, finally succumbing to nightmares of Toby.

There was one dream, however, that was different from all the rest, more real somehow. In it I saw Toby's face and his angry, hurt eyes. He was sitting on the edge of my old bed in my college dorm, staring into his coffee cup as if the dark liquid could magically change his future.

I moved towards him hesitantly. "Toby?"

Toby wouldn't look at me. "I don't know how to feel after…" he trailed off.

My chest tightened in panic, and I could see what he was going to say next. "What are you saying?"

Toby finally lifted his somber blue eyes to mine. "I can't do this anymore."

"No, Toby, please," I cried, tears flowing down my cheeks. "Please don't do this. I know I hurt you, but don't leave."

"How can we be together if you keep pushing me away? All I cared about was helping you." He held up a gold-plated positive pregnancy stick. "We could've had a future together."

"But I love you," I wept.

"I don't love you anymore." His eyes were blank–no love, no emotion, nothing.

I could feel my heart breaking all over again. Then Toby dropped the pregnancy test at my feet and walked away. I ran after him, calling his name, pleading him to come back, but he disappeared into darkness without stopping.

"Now, I'd like to introduce one of the reasons why I'm running for office," Veronica announced, jolting me out from the memory of my dream. "My daughter, Spencer Hastings."

My stomach clenched, and the crowd clapped.

"Don't miss your cue," Mona said.

Steeling myself, I walked up to my mom at the podium. Then we hugged, holding each other tightly. As Veronica waved goodbye to her supporters, I scanned the crowd, looking for Toby's face, hoping to find him waiting for me. I was aching to see Toby, even though it had only been an hour since I'd last seen him. I realized sadly that he wasn't here, and I felt stupid for hoping he would be. Of course Toby wouldn't be here. Why would he show up to support his ex-girlfriend at her mother's campaign speech? It was not something an ex-boyfriend would do. But his absence hit me with a sense of loss and longing nonetheless.

Feeling drained, I slowly stepped off the podium. Waiting off to the side were Aria, Hanna, and Emily.

My mouth was drawn in a grim line, and I could feel the tears coming. I didn't want my friends to see me cry. My eyes darted from left and right, searching for a quick escape.

I quickly ducked through a group of people clustered together, dodging a mother and her child as I fought my way through. There were no buildings nearby to hide in, no exits or pathways. I pushed against the bodies furiously, trying to avoid being seen by my friends.

Then the throng moved, jostling me in the other direction, and I was greeted by the sunlight out on the empty street. I risked a peek over my shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. Nobody had noticed I'd left.

I walked down the block to The Brew, paying little attention to the people walking by. I was in desperate need of some coffee. Five minutes later, I strode through the café's fiber-glass wooden door. Other than a pretty brunette washing off the tables, the only person working the cash register was Sabrina, one of Ezra's employees. She'd been taking marijuana for migraines, but Toby had mistakenly eaten some of her pot gummy bears the night we'd tried to catch Charles, when he'd found them in Jess' bag, intended for me.

"What can I get you?"

Sabrina stood at the counter in a black halter top and dark jeans. Her dirty blonde hair, which was used pulled back, now spilled down her shoulders. There was something very magnetic and comforting about her heart-shaped face, crystal-blue eyes, and pretty pink lips.

"Um, just a coffee to go." I handed her my credit card from my purse.

Sabrina nodded. "It'll just be a minute."

She walked off behind the counter and began to pour a carafe of coffee into a cardboard cup. After swiping my Visa, she handed it back to me along with the receipt.

I shoved it into my purse, then grabbed my cup of coffee. "Thanks."

When I looked up, my heart pounded. Toby was standing at the counter holding a latte. I struggled to keep a straight face as the tears in my eyes threatened to spill over. "Toby?"

His face broke out into a huge smile when he saw me. "Hey."

"Hi," I said back. I looked into his eyes, forgetting the rest of the world for a minute.

Toby's eyes shined. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

I smiled again, thinking of our date tomorrow night. "Yeah. I'm really excited."

Toby gazed into my eyes with probing intensity. The smile had faded from his lips into a serious expression. "I can't wait to see you."

"You're seeing me now," I whispered.

His gaze lingered on my lips. "Not enough."

A churning ache that hit me with crippling strength churned in my stomach, and my heart grew hollow and went cold like ice. _I love you,_ I wanted to scream. I wanted to press my face into Toby's chest, feel his warmth and inhale his wonderful scent.

Gazing back into Toby's eyes like a lovesick idiot, I realized that I loved him even more. The one thing I was positive of in this world–knew it from my head to my toes, could feel it in the pit of my stomach and deep inside my empty chest–was that I would never stop loving Toby, and it killed me. Love had the power to break someone.

I was broken beyond repair. There was no fixing me.

But I needed Toby, needed him like a drug. I'd been using alcohol as a crutch for so long that I'd fallen in deeper than I realized without him. I could not bear to be hurting like this.

Toby was my soulmate. I would always love him, but it didn't matter because I could never be with Toby without hurting him again. It would never be enough.

Toby's eyebrows knit together in concern. "Spence, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

My cheeks reddened. "I have to go."

Then I pushed through the door, bolting down the street even as he called after me, feeling on the verge of tears. Staying away from Toby seemed like the smarter option.

Jess

That same evening, while Spencer and the girls listened to her mother's senator campaign speech at City Hall, I sat by the Hastings' fireplace inside the barn-remodeled guest house, sipping a glass of red wine. I stared gloomily at the flames, thinking about my conversation with Ali earlier.

Spencer's mom, Veronica, had graciously invited my boyfriend and I, Jason, to sleep in the guest bedroom next to Spencer's while we stayed in town for Charles' hearing tomorrow. Spencer had renovated the barn the summer before eleventh grade started, building bay windows along the exterior that looked out on the encroaching trees outside the family's backyard, a staircase that led downstairs to the basement, had high beamed ceilings, a cedar-wooden platform front porch, and sliding double doors throughout the house. The kitchen was modern and spacious, updated with the latest appliances. Spencer had even put in an open-hearth fireplace and a guest room with a walk-in bathroom, and repainted the barn in soft, light colors to make the place nicer.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had the most torturous, unbridled, full-blown crush on Jason. And I knew the family well. His sister, Alison, was my best friend. We'd bonded in instant friendship the moment our mothers had gotten pregnant with us; Ali was born in March, and my mom had me nine months later. I sought out every opportunity I could to see Jason, pining over him as I stared at him longingly from across the street at the movie theatre, talking and laughing with his friends. In sixth grade, I'd sneak over to hide behind the tall bookcases in the Rosewood public library to watch him check out mystery books, or drool over his well-formed abs as he worked out in his bedroom shirtless. I would sit on the little hill on the high school campus to swoon over Jason's muscular legs as he ran laps around the soccer practice field, taking a break from sketching in my sketchpad. I used to flip through pages in Ali's family albums, admiring photos of him. It was the only thing I ever kept from Alison. But when Ali made brightly colored string bracelets for us to symbolize our friendship, saying secrets were what would keep us close forever, I couldn't help but feel guilty. Because there was one thing that I was keeping from her: my feelings for Jason.

But then finally, on the night we were supposed to catch Charles, Jason admitted he'd loved me all along and kissed me. In the moment, I'd been too conflicted to confront my true emotions, knowing I had strong feelings for both Jason and Josh–my best friend since childhood, whom I'd always known I loved deep down. Ultimately, I realized Jason was the one I wanted to be with, and so I returned those feelings back to him and we'd been together ever since.

I'd spent five blissful and wonderful years with Jason in New York. After I got accepted into my dream school Yale for an art major, Jason and I packed up and we moved to New Haven, Connecticut, where we rented a small, but cozy apartment together close to the university. And after living in Connecticut for six months, I'd almost forgotten all about Rosewood and the bad things that had happened there. A new start had been just what we'd needed.

Jason would drive me to school in the red Honda Civic that we both shared, giving me a quick kiss before dropping me off, while he worked with a non-profit organization to help underprivileged kids. The first few weeks at Yale flew by and I'd been flourishing with my studies in flying colors. The teachers were brilliant, my classes were inspiring, and my arts professor had even recommended me for an internship at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. They'd offered me the job a few days after the interview. It wasn't a paid position, but it gave me the chance to meet legendary artists and show my work to the world. Never did I imagine I'd be able to pursue my dreams of becoming an artist.

As for Jason, we spent every waking moment together in our apartment, falling easily into a routine. In the mornings, Jason would rise from bed as I slept to brew coffee. And then when I finally woke, he'd greet me with a kiss and we'd make breakfast together. On other days we'd lie in bed together with hot cups of coffee, talking and reveling in each other's presence. It was those moments where I felt deeply connected to Jason in a way that I'd never felt with anyone before. And it made me wonder why it'd taken us so long to finally be together.

During Thanksgiving and Christmas, we'd gone back to Rosewood to visit Ali and my family. The two of us spent hours rolling around in the snow until the cold winter air turned our cheeks red, snuggling together by the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket and drinking hot cocoa. After Jason and I helped Ali decorate and put up the tree, I used the free time to study for finals. And when we came home, we stayed in bed in each other's arms, kissing until the sun went down. We would talk into the early hours of the morning, only to make love some more. The passion we felt for each other was undeniable and consuming. It was a connection that went far beyond physical; it was mental, spiritual, a perfect kind of love. The feeling of his bare skin against mine brought my body to life. In between kisses, Jason would whisper over and over how much he loved me. His favorite thing to do was gently tracing his fingers over my scars, making me shiver with delight. I'd never felt completely and utterly safe and so loved by anyone before him.

I'd also begun to work on my portfolio. Sometimes Jason would watch me draw as the sunlight streamed in through the huge bay window, occasionally playing with my hair and brushing his lips along my face. After I was finished, we'd take moonlight strolls along the loopy trails in the woods, pausing only to lie together in a little meadow and look for constellations in the night sky. He'd always point out one of the stars that he had named Jess, the most beautiful name he knew. We'd stay there for hours, stargazing and just being with each other. Saturday nights found us in our bedroom, surrounded by romantic candles as Jason and I each took turns massaging one another.

But I hadn't shirked my responsibilities in the art program at Yale or forgotten my passion for painting–I attended lectures twice a week and practiced sculpting and sketching in my free fine arts activity class. Though we didn't spend much time together on campus, Jason would often take me out to dinner and a movie, and once, feeling bold, we went to a jazz club where we listened to a band play the saxophone, dancing and drinking cosmopolitans at the bar. The world became brighter in color and more vivid somehow since being with Jason. Having him in my life changed everything. All the ups and downs I'd endured, through the pain and struggles, had all been leading me to Jason.

Suddenly, an unsettling memory swirled into focus in my mind: the night of my senior prom. Charles DiLaurentis, the maniac who'd kidnapped and tortured me, my friends, and Mona Vanderwaal in a demented life-size Dollhouse for his own twisted games. And Jason's identical twin brother.

Even though five years had passed since it happened, the memory still haunted me, waking me up in the middle of the night like ghosts looming around at every corner. Like how Charles had drugged Jason and left him unconscious in one of the old patient rooms at Radley Sanitarium. How Charles had kissed me, pretending to be Jason, and tried to make me think that Spencer, Aria, Hanna, Emily and Ali were all secretly deceiving me. Or how he had tricked me into coming to Radley with him, violently attacked me, forcefully injected me with a syringe of an Ether drug, and locked me in the downstairs basement while the room filled with overpowering gas in an attempt to kill me.

He had revealed himself to be Charles, Jason's twin brother, and the real A who'd been stalking and tormenting my friends and I for years. Charles hated Jason for what happened to him, driven insane by jealousy that Jason had the life that he wanted. And he blamed me and my friends for what happened to him. when Charles was only six years old, his father, Kenneth DiLaurentis, hid him away at Radley for years without telling a single soul, after he'd purposely tried to drown his own twin brother in a bathtub. He was A, he was the one who'd sent all the threatening text messages, he'd murdered his mother and my godmother, Jessica DiLaurentis, and planned on killing me, Spencer, Hanna, Emily, and Aria next.

I had escaped from the basement just before Charles could set off the bomb inside the building. But shortly after that, he had been arrested and was sent to a psychiatric hospital. The media had gone abuzz with the story, especially about the twins. Now, Charles wanted to come home, claiming to have changed. I tried not to think of him walking around Rosewood, free to hurt me whenever he wanted. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, the mirror-image identical to Jason's, right down to their shared genetic markers. It terrified me remembering how Charles had hurt me, not knowing he wasn't Jason.

Even though I knew I was safe from Charles, I couldn't help but fear that the court would let him out, and he'd go right back to impersonating Jason again and I would have no idea. Or worse: he'd finish what he'd originally started and kill me. I shivered.

I heard footsteps outside and when the front door creaked open, Jason walked into the living room. He looked amazing as always, in a pair of faded blue jeans and a white long-sleeved, button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his forearms hard and muscular. His skin was a few shades darker than his hair, tan from spending so much time out in the sun. I couldn't help but admire him–his tousled golden blonde hair and the scruff on his chin and cheeks, his ocean-blue eyes, perfect full pink lips, and his muscular chest and strong, broad shoulders.

Jason kissed the top of my head as he approached and sat down beside me on the hearth. "Hey, what are doing in here alone?"

I didn't look at his face. "Just tired, I guess."

Jason gently squeezed my knee. "Does this have anything to do with Charles' hearing tomorrow?"

I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't want to think about this now, especially with Jason watching me with those familiar deep blue eyes–the same ones as his twin brother. "It'll all be over by tomorrow," I finally muttered, but my hands were shaking.

Jason looked at me unconvinced, noting my pensive gaze. "Jess."

"I'm fine," I insisted.

As he leaned closer to me, I could smell his pleasant, minty soap. "No you're not. Look, I hate him, too."

"Why do you care?" I snapped. "Is this some kind of ploy to get me to move back to Rosewood?"

"No!" Jason's mouth fell open. "Of course not!" He took my hands in his big ones. "Jess, I only want you to be happy."

I sniffled. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Ever since we came back here, I haven't felt like myself."

Jason put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. I breathed in and out deeply and leaned into his chest. Being with him felt like home.

Spontaneous tears leaked from my eyes. "I don't want to go to the hearing," I wept. "If I tell the court that I'm afraid of him, I'll be hurting Ali. But if I say I feel safe with him being let out, it'll make me a liar. I don't know what to do."

"You don't owe Alison anything," he said gently. "After what Charles did to you, I can understand if you don't want to lie. We don't have to stay here, we can go back to New York."

Although it was no secret how I felt about Charles, it was the first time I'd said out loud why I couldn't bring myself to tell the court the real reason why I was afraid of him–not my parents, not my friends, not even Jason. "There's something you don't know."

Jason stared at me, furrowing his brow deeply. As he waited for me to explain, I took a deep breath, gathering as much courage as I could, and finally met his eyes. "When I was trapped in Radley with Charles, he tried to…he tried to touch me."

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction. Jason stared vaguely at the fireplace, a blank expression on his face, and then blinked. "I don't understand."

I swallowed deeply. "We were in the basement," I explained. "It was before I knew it wasn't you. And Charles told me he had something important to tell me about A, but he had this look on his face, like…I don't know, something just felt _off_. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what until he told me who he really was. So I tried to get out, but Charles grabbed me and started taking off my dress and…" I put a hand over my mouth, choking back a sob.

Jason sat still, waiting patiently as I continued, listening to my story with caring and understanding eyes. He reached over and touched my hand, stroking my fingers.

"He was rambling on about how he wanted everything you had, your life, your family, me. And how he wanted to _have_ me. I was able to stop him before he got too far, but..." I squeezed my eyes shut as more tears slid down my cheeks, trying to push out the awful memory. "I didn't really understand what was really happening until he pushed apart my legs. I thought he was trying to punish me for his dad sending him away, but he was being too rough. And then I pushed him off me and he drugged me."

"Jess," Jason whispered.

"I was so scared when I finally woke up." My voice cracked. "I thought he'd… And when I thought he was you, someone who looked exactly like you, and tried to violate me in the worst possible way, it just wreaked me. I couldn't sleep for months."

"I'm so sorry, Jess," Jason whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

My lower lip trembled. "I was too scared. Saying it out loud would make it more real. And I've tried so hard not to think about it."

Jason gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I realized that our hands were still touching, but I made no movement to pull away. He gazed intensely into my eyes with penetrating force. I stared back, my heart racing. Jason moved closer and closer until his face was only inches away from mine, and I could feel his hot breath in my face. He smelled like eucalyptus.

I broke the moment. "Please don't tell Ali. She's been trying so hard to get Charles out. I don't want her to find out that her brother tried to force himself on me, too."

Jason's blue eyes blazed. "How can you protect that monster?"

"Promise me," I pleaded urgently.

Jason let out a deep sigh. "Fine. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Stop worrying so much about everyone else for once and start thinking about yourself, okay?"

I couldn't answer. In the next instant, Jason's mouth was on mine. I crushed my lips back against his in response and tangled my fingers through his hair. He groaned, delving deeper into the kiss.

I grabbed his chin and parted his lips with mine, exploring the wildness that was emanating from him, wanting more. Jason moved his lips against mine softly, yet fiercely. He pressed his thighs against my hips, and I could feel the contours of his chest. I sighed breathlessly.

I flattened my palms against his chest, pulling his shirt over his head. Smiling, Jason glided his hand underneath my outer thigh and looped it around his hip.

His hands followed the curve of my back to the middle of my shoulder blades, pulling down the zipper on my dress. When he realized I wasn't wearing a bra, he tugged my dress all the way down and we sank down onto the soft carpet by the blazing fireplace. I gasped, and his lips were sucking on my neck.

I ran my hands up his bare, muscular chest, and then trailed them down to the waistband of his jeans. Jason shimmied them off his hips, kicking them aside until he was in only his tight, sexy boxer Polo briefs. I was naked except for a pair of lacy pink panties that rested dangerously low on my hips, but soon Jason took those off, too. A whimper escaped my lips.

I rubbed my feet against his legs as he moved on top of me. Jason's body felt hot and wonderful against mine, yet I'd never felt safer or more comfortable than I did with him. I twisted my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing myself closer to him as I kissed him slowly and deeply. Jason groaned, digging his fingers into my bare back. I could feel him getting closer and closer.

His lips molded against mine, the heat of bare skin on skin overwhelming me. Jason threaded his fingers through mine against the carpeted floor as our bodies entwined and moved together by the fire.

Toby

Later that evening, I sat on the top steps of the Fields' front porch, drinking my second bottle of beer next to my best friend, Emily Fields. Tonight, Pam Fields had put up the army's service flag in the bay window to commemorate her husband's death. Last year, Emily's dad, Wayne, had died from a heart attack while fighting ISIS in Syria. I'd come over as soon as I found out that Emily and her mom were honoring his memory.

I peeked a glance at Emily, whose normally demure face now looked drawn and sad. She hadn't said a word since we'd settled onto her porch. For a moment, I didn't know what to say. But then I recalled running into Spencer at The Brew earlier, and my heart wilted. After I'd told Spencer I couldn't wait for our date tomorrow night, a nervous look passed over her face and she'd bolted out of The Brew without so much as an explanation. My stomach twisted as I came up with a conclusion for her strange behavior. Spencer could see that the dinner date meant more to me than it did to her. She didn't want to be with me anymore…because she didn't love me. So we couldn't even have dinner together.

I missed Spencer. I missed playing Scrabble with her and speaking French with each other, and making love. I'd heard her mom, Veronica, was running for senator. When we were dating, we'd always supported each other with whatever family drama was going on in our lives. But now it felt like we were worlds apart.

I exhaled a deep breath. "Spencer and I just…went out of sync. It happens. I–I–I–like this town, but everywhere she went, it was like she saw something that she wanted to forget." Misery swelled inside my chest.

"I wouldn't have pictured you and Ali to be the ones to stay," Emily finally said.

I shrugged. "Different reasons, same results."

Alison DiLaurentis was one of Spencer and Emily's best friends back in high school. She was beautiful, smart, popular, and the first girl I ever crushed on. But one spring day in ninth grade, Ali shot a firework into my parents shed. Just after she lit the firework, she saw me with my stepsister, Jenna, through the door. No one else saw what happened except for Ali. My shirt was unbuttoned, and Jenna was forcing herself on top of me. Then she moved her hand to my jeans and started to take them off.

Ali had been so shocked, she ran. The spark sped rapidly up the wick of the firework, and the stinkbomb exploded. Then there was a bright flash, followed by a loud crash, and the shed burst up into flames. The firework had hit Jenna in the face, blinding her. When I confronted Ali about it, she told me she'd seen me fooling around with Jenna. She threatened to tell my parents if I didn't take the blame for Jenna's accident, not knowing it was Jenna who'd been raping me, so I confessed. By the next school year, my parents sent me away to a reform school in Maine. Although being marked as a creepy psycho in Rosewood had been brutal, I was happy to finally be free from Jenna. In a way, Ali had saved me. And the last remaining sparks of my crush on Ali dissipated.

"You got your degree, didn't you?" Emily asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Took a while, mostly nights, but I got it. Didn't do much good this year. Got passed over for promotion." I took another sip of my beer, still tipsy from the first one. The liquid slid down my throat and burned in my chest, but the pain felt minuscule compared to the much sharper one.

I paused. Just three years before Spencer and I broke up, I'd decided to take online classes at Marywood University, making the long commute to the campus for exams, until I finally graduated with a bachelor's degree. The hope had been to get promoted to detective at the Rosewood Police Station where I worked as a policeman. Unfortunately, I'd gotten passed over for the promotion to my former partner, Lorenzo Calderon, when I failed the yearly physical fitness test at the station–my key into getting the job–due to one of my many sleepless nights. All I'd been able to think about the night before was Spencer and how I could get her to love me again, and the nightmares of her that plagued my mind whenever I closed my eyes. Since losing Spencer, my life hadn't turned out the way I'd expected.

Emily looked thoughtful. "College wasn't what I thought it was going to be. I look at Aria, Spencer, and even Hanna. It all seemed to click for them."

"Not for you?" I asked.

"No," she answered quietly. "I had a hard time. When my dad died, I just couldn't see a point to it."

I frowned. "To the college?"

"To anything." Emily gazed unseeingly at the night sky, her mind seeming to be elsewhere.

When I looked at her, I noticed a hint of sadness and anxiety in her expression, as if she was remembering something very painful. But before I could ask her about it, Emily turned to face me again and the emotion was gone.

Images of Spencer's face filled my mind as I headed home, and I couldn't get her out of my head. There was one memory that stood out from all the rest.

It was the winter of what was supposed to be my senior year of high school, and Spencer stood outside my door on the front porch. It was the first time we'd ever spoken. She was wearing a black wool cape coat paired with black leather skinny pants, and her hair was pulled back into a braided bun with a few wisps of dark hair framing her face. I remembered staring back at her, immediately feeling mesmerized by how beautiful she was.

"I'm here to tutor you," she'd said, and frowned the only way Spencer could–like the world was coming to an end. "Someone from the school called to tell you, didn't they?"

The school _had_ called, leaving a message on the voicemail machine saying that my new tutor would be coming by that afternoon to help catch me up in all my studies. When I heard who would be tutoring me, I thought it was a joke.

I looked at her guardedly, then shut the door to unchain the lock that was keeping us away at a safe distance. I hadn't known she would change my life forever. "Why you?"

"Because I'm in AP French," Spencer said smugly. Her eyes suddenly softened. "And I volunteered."

It went on like that for three months, sparking a connection that grew from stolen glances and tutoring lessons, to sleuthing for A and playing games of Scrabble, quickly blossoming into something more. And the more I spent time with Spencer, the more I began to fall for her and realized she wasn't at all like Alison. Though our relationship was forbidden by our families, nothing could keep us apart. We fell deeply and irrevocably in love.

When Spencer came onto my doorstep that day, my whole life had changed. I couldn't live without her. These past few years without her proved that.

I exhaled sharply in agony as something stole the oxygen out of my lungs, overwhelmed by the intensity of the memory. The houses blurring past me grew smaller and farther apart. And then I was driving through the thick woods, carefully maneuvering along the unpaved road, twisting at every turn.

After a few miles, the encroaching trees on either side of me began to thin. I heard the familiar crunch of gravel underneath the tires of my truck as I neared, and I stopped underneath a weeping willow tree. I looked at my trailer. It was a silver single-wide trailer located at the end of a gravel road just on the outskirts of Rosewood, nestled against a grove of oak and pine trees in the middle of the forest. With a metal hinged door that was constantly getting jammed, the trailer sat on stacked cinder blocks, a temporary foundation until I could finish the house I was building twenty-five feet away. It had a small bathroom with just a shower, a dining area, and a singular bedroom with a queen-size bed. The kitchen barely had room for a mini refrigerator, but the trailer was furnished with a leather couch and a small TV, including a dining booth and a built-in coffee table, and the sale price had been a bargain. Insulation was almost nonexistent, and during the hot summer days I had to pop open the windows just to get cool. I'd put in a new carpet and repaired cracks in the linoleum kitchen floor with supplies I picked up from the hardware store to keep away rodents and insects. And the only photographs I had were in albums. It was less of a home than a place where I ate and slept and showered.

It was much quieter than in Philadelphia or New York or Washington D.C., with the endless rush of traffic and noises and people shoving their way by on the sidewalks, and I preferred it that way. In the mornings, I could smell the fresh dewy grass and honeysuckles, and in the evenings, I'd watch the sunset. It would remind me too much of Spencer, so I'd retreat back inside the trailer, forcing the memories away. I was miles away from town, and I had no close neighbors. The trailer wasn't much, but it was the only thing I had right now and out of the way. Since I'd exchanged my loft above The Brew for the trailer, I'd spent most of my time cutting and sawing wood for my dream house.

I'd started the project three years ago after I lost Spencer, wanting to prove to her that living together would be wonderful and we could have a family together. I wanted Spencer back more than anything, so I bought all the necessary parts and supplies needed and took out most of my inheritance money to build the house for her, much to my father's disapproval, to surprise her with it. I drew the blueprints in great detail, trying to make it perfect. I nailed the wooden structures together for kitchen counters until they were leveled and secure, I spent hours building in walls, I sawed and sanded frames for the house until they were smooth, I'd added cement into the flooring and then used plaster. I was going to paint the exterior of the house a light blue once it was finished, and next week, I would be buying some shingles for the roof.

When I took a break from working on the house, I liked to rest in my bedroom in the afternoons and read classic books, like Hemingway and Fitzgerald. I had no other hobbies aside from jogging and lifting weights at the gym and tinkering on my motorcycle. I took long strolls through the woods when the moon was out, occasionally stopping by the hill that overlooked Rosewood where Spencer and I used to sneak away to be together when we dated in high school. Every now and then, I went fishing with my best friend, Caleb Rivers. I read every night and looked over the love letters I'd sent to Spencer while she was in D.C. Every single one of them had been returned. In five years, I'd never been to Paris or gone up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I never shared French pastries with Spencer or sipped coffee at the Café Du Monde, or took a romantic boat ride along the river and admired the beautiful paintings in the famous art museum. Nothing had turned out as I had planned. I was twenty-four years old and I never fell in love again.

Most people would tease me for it, but they didn't know what I had been through or what had happened. Three years later, and I was still in love with Spencer Hastings.

I'd had trouble sleeping since I lost Spencer, tossing and turning throughout the night. It was always the same dream every night; a big, empty building filled with an endless maze of rooms, so deafeningly quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat echoing down the halls. It was dark, with only a few flickering overhead lights to guide my way. Then I would hear Spencer's voice calling my name at some point in the dream, crying nonstop, pleading for me to save her. I hurried through the darkness not knowing where I was going, only running to where the sound of Spencer's voice led me to, searching for her. Getting more panicked and worried with each minute that passed, moving faster and faster. Finally, I'd stop in front of a singular door and the crying grew louder, more insistent. "Toby!" she'd scream. "I'm sorry, please let me out! I'm scared."

I'd try turning the door handle, but it wouldn't budge, even as I jiggled it and used the weight of my body to break it open. And that's when I'd see a puddle of water start to form around my feet, and I realized it was Spencer's tears leaking out from underneath the door.

I yanked on the door handle even harder, feeling more frantic. I could hear Spencer's voice breaking out in endless sobs. "Don't leave me. I miss you, Toby. Please forgive me."

"I'm coming, Spencer!" I'd tell her through the door. "Just hold on."

As I tried to pick the lock in the door, it was there that it'd hit me fast and hard, when I realized I couldn't get inside and never would. It was over; beyond the thick wood was an impenetrable force keeping Spencer and I apart. And I felt powerless to do anything while the woman I loved remained trapped in the dark room all alone, suffering. I never had a chance and there would never be anyone else for me for as long as I lived.

The nightmare didn't end until I woke up gasping for air, sweat on my forehead and bare chest. Agony ripped through me from the memory of my dream.

I got out of the truck and unlocked the door to my trailer. The dew of the grass moistened the soles of my shoes, and I caught the scent of honeysuckles like I did every night. I was exhausted as I stepped inside, and my muscles were sore. After crossing the kitchen, I dragged myself to bed.

Wearing only a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers, I moved to the wooden box by my bed and lifted the lid. Inside were several photos of Spencer and I when we were together, including a French translation copy of _Catcher In the Rye_ that she'd given to me during our first tutoring lesson, a small white bear I'd given her, my love letters to her, and the cards we'd exchanged on our anniversary.

I pulled out the gold pocket watch from underneath a framed photograph of a younger Spencer when she was sixteen–it was one of the first pictures I'd taken of her. She looked young and flushed, her brown doe eyes looked alive and feisty, and her long, dark thick hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. Even back then, she was still so breathtakingly beautiful.

I pressed the button on the top of the watch, and it popped open.

 _You're my once upon a time – S_

Spencer had given me the pocket watch after I'd graduated from the Harrisburg Police Academy. I'd joined the police force to protect her. Then she'd said she loved me in the most tender way, and we held each other.

The photo album Spencer and I made together sat at the bottom of the box. I lifted the cover. Photographs of the two of us filled the pages. They were arranged neatly in two-page layouts along with descriptions underneath of each place we visited, and scrawled messages that we'd written to each other.

I flipped through the rest of the pages. One snapshot was a photobooth strip of Spencer and I kissing, smiling, and making silly faces. Another was a photo of me with Spencer for our first Christmas. We were both standing in front of the tree with our arms wrapped around each other tightly, grinning from ear-to-ear, happy and in love. Below that was a photo of just Spencer sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, staring back at me in the picture with warm brown eyes. She wore a mint-green tulip blouse, and she was facing me with a tender look on her face. Spencer looked just as perfect as she did now.

I touched my favorite photo in the center of the page, the one of Spencer and I at her parents' lake house during our first summer together as a couple. We were drenched, kissing in the water of the lake. Spencer was wearing her magenta-strapless string bikini, revealing most of her cleavage, and I had on a pair of navy-blue trunks.

The last one was a picture of Spencer curled up on my bed in my old loft, wearing one of my oversize shirts, dozing peacefully. Her eyes were closed and her expression was serene, all the muscles in her face loosened and relaxed. She seemed so peaceful, as if she was dreaming pleasant things. She looked like a goddess. At the bottom of the photo was a caption in my handwriting titled, _My sleeping Angel_.

Guilt hit me like an avalanche and my heart swelled, thinking about the way Spencer and I fell apart. I missed everything about her–her smell, the way her lips spread into a huge grin and her eyes would light up like a Christmas tree every time she saw me, her cute little laugh, her pessimistic view of the world, her witty sense of humor, when she'd give me random facts on medicine and preservation. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I started to break out into sobs. The world that had once seemed so beautiful and vibrant, was now drained of color. And the worst part was I knew it was my fault we broke up. If I hadn't left, if I hadn't let her go the way I did, we'd still be together. I wished more than anything that I could change what had happened between us.

When I was with Spencer, my heart was beating like it was supposed to, pumping hot blood through my chest. I felt whole again. The last three years without her meant nothing. And the words she'd said to me in her dorm room didn't matter, because I would fight for her until she was mine again. I would never want anything but her until the day I died, no matter what.

Then, in the darkness of the trailer, I took out a pen and a piece of stationary paper and started to write…

Jess

Early Saturday morning, I sat in the back row next to Hanna, Emily, Aria, and Spencer of the Rosewood courthouse as we listened to Alison talk at the front of the room. Today we were speaking to the judge for Charles' hearing, about whether or not we felt safe with him being released from the Welby State Psychiatric Hospital.

The courtroom smelled like dust and floor wax, lit up by fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling. A set of identical cherry-wooden chairs were arranged in neat rows in front of the big, dark mahogany table, where each of us would have to sit in front of the judge and tell her how we felt about Charles. I shivered with dread–the last time I'd been here was when I'd testified against him at his trail. And now I was here to lie on his behalf. It made me sick to my stomach.

"My family has always had a missing part," Ali went on passionately. "What's missing is my brother, Charles. Over the past five years I've come to love this missing part of my family. And now, I want to bring my brother home."

When it was my turn to speak, I pulled out the paper that I'd written down of what I wanted to say to the judge. I looked up nervously at Judge Cooper sitting on the bench and straightened. "For the last seven years, I didn't know what a home was. Until I came here. And Alison's brother deserves to have that too, despite what he did to all of us." I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat.

Then suddenly, a familiar memory flashed across my mind. Before I could stop the wave of bad memories, they pulled me under, without any control of my own. The memory of being trapped inside Charles' Dollhouse raced through my head and made the room spin. I could see it all so clearly now–the terror I'd felt from waking up in the dark basement and realizing there were no doors or windows to escape, the excruciating pain when Charles repetitively stunned me with a horse prod, nearly torturing me to death. My bloody fingernails, stubbed down to the bone as I desperately clawed my way through the thick soil from underneath the foundation with haste to get out. Charles hadn't known I would escape. Just as I hadn't expected to find Charles waiting for me in the woods, attacking me from behind, trying to drag me back to the house. I'd driven my fist hard into his face, making blood spurt out from his nose, before finally running for my life.

I was certain I must have been having some sort of hallucination, triggered by the memory of being in this room again. But there was one memory that I couldn't shake. It was five years ago, when Charles had locked me downstairs in the basement at Radley with the sick, twisted intent to steal me away from Jason. I remembered seeing the cemented basement floors, the dank walls covered in cobwebs, filled with files scattered all over the room. Two dirty clawfoot bathtubs sat in the center of the basement. Then Charles appeared, looking exactly like Jason, and when I looked into his eyes, I realized he wasn't who I thought he was. When I tried to reach the door, Charles had yanked me back and shoved me up against the wall. He'd pinned my wrists back over my head so I couldn't move and pressed his body roughly against mine.

"What, I'm not good enough for you?" His hot breath blew in my face, making me cringe. "What does my brother have that I don't?"

Charles' movements were forceful and his body was heavy. "Stop it," I said weakly.

His rough hand reached for the hem of my dress. He stroked my knee, then slid his hand all the way up my leg. "My brother can never give you what you want," he'd said in my ear. "Just give yourself to me, and I won't kill you in front of him."

Tears brimmed over my eyes as anxiety tightened my chest. "No," I whispered, struggling against his firm hold on my wrists. "I love Jason. It's always going to be him."

Charles pushed his body against mine in a hot rage and ripped the skirt of my dress, squeezing my bare thigh hard. He was getting closer and closer to my underwear. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from crying.

"Please stop," I whimpered. But then I thought of my ex, Jonny Raymond, how he'd hurt me the same way Charles was right now, and fury bubbled through me. I wasn't going to let him do this to me; he would never have me.

I pushed back against him. Then I brought up my knee and drove it straight into Charles' groin. _Hard_.

" _Umff!_ " Charles staggered backward, holding his groin. He screamed in agony. "You stupid bitch!"

Charles stumbled and hit the far wall. His knees buckled, and he slid down until he lay crumpled on the floor. "You're going to regret this," he'd threatened.

"Stay away from me," I'd shot back. "And stay away from Jason, or I'll kick your ass."

I leaned down to grab the key that had slipped out of Charles' pocket and turned it into the door's keyhole. It clicked open, and I was free.

Judge Cooper's voice broke me out of the memory. "Miss Clarke?"

I thought for a minute about what I really wanted to say. Not for Ali, not for my friends, not for the court. But for me.

I glanced at Ali. _I'm sorry, Ali,_ I thought silently to her.

Then I turned back to Judge Cooper. "Yes, I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of Charles DiLaurentis. I don't care what the doctors say about how well he is recovering or that he's integrated himself into society, he put me through hell. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in that place, getting burned and shocked by every prod, taser, and jumper cables that A could get his hands on. And I get scared that he'll show up at any given moment and he'll do those things to me again. As long as Charles is free, I'll never feel safe."

I stood and walked back to my seat next to Spencer, Emily, and Hanna. It was finally Aria's turn to talk to the judge. She glanced at her paper of what she was going to say.

"Alison and Dr. Rollins have told us how well Charles has been doing," Aria began. "How rapidly he's been able to integrate himself into the General Hospital population. They feel strongly that–"

Before Aria could finish, she was interrupted by someone entering the room. I looked at the wooden doors to the lobby. Ezra Fitz walked to the other side of the courtroom. "I'm sorry," he mumbled to the judge.

Without even glancing once at Aria, Ezra turned his gaze to the front of the room. Long gone was the lanky and attractive, young high school English teacher that girls lusted over. In his place was a guy with wavy dark hair and brown eyes, wearing a white button-down Henley shirt and dark jeans. There was some overgrown stubble on his cheeks, and a couple buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned sloppily. I hadn't seen him since the night Charles had gotten arrested, and I wondered what he was doing here in the courtroom now.

Aria had hooked up with Mr. Fitz at a college bar a year after Alison went missing, before either of them knew he was going to be her AP English teacher. He was the one who'd ended it, but when they tried to stay away from each other, Aria and Ezra realized their feelings for one another were too strong, and so they continued their illicit affair. Then, after Aria discovered the horrifying truth–that Ezra was using Aria to exploit Alison's lies and manipulation in a book he'd written about her–she broke things off for good.

Judge Cooper stared at Aria sternly. "Miss Montgomery."

"Sorry," Aria apologized, turning back to her paper. "They feel strongly that now is the right time for Charles–"

Judge Cooper cut her off. "Miss Montgomery, I've read the same reports you have."

"Well, the doctors–"

"The doctors can speak for themselves. You're here to tell me if you'd feel safe, should Charles DiLaurentis leave the hospital."

As Aria looked down at her paper, a haunted expression passed over her face, as if she was remembering something horrible.

"Miss Montgomery?" the judge pressed.

Aria stared at the front of the room with wide, scared eyes, looking at nothing in particular. She blinked a couple times, then turned back to the judge.

"No," Aria answered after a minute. "No, I would not feel safe." She looked at Ali guiltily sitting in the back row. "I was on the Redline going to Braintree…and the train stopped in the tunnel between the stations. The power went out a-and it was dark. No, not dark. It was black. And I was back in every box, in every tight space that A ever put me in, and I couldn't breathe. Then I heard a girl crying. Good I thought, somebody else is scared out of their mind. Then…the power came back on and every single person on that train was staring at me. Because I was the girl who was crying. I don't want Charles released. Ever."

By the time Aria was finished, there were tears in her eyes.

When I looked around the courtroom, I gasped softly. Mona Vanderwaal was standing off to the side, waiting to talk about Charles. She fidgeted uncharacteristically next to Ezra, toying with the diamond Tiffany bracelet around her wrist. Then, suddenly, she looked up and her honey-brown eyes found mine. She smiled at me and waved. I gave her a meek smile.

When the judge called Mona up next, she slid into the chair at the table. She looked over the paper she held in her hands. I could only imagine what she'd written–scrawling down angry words onto the page, pressing the pen so hard that the ink nearly leaked through, trying to calculate and examine each sentence until it made sense. I pictured her eyebrows knitting together and creasing her forehead in concentration, her hand trembling as she wrote it.

The room was dead silent, as though it was anticipating this moment before taking one last final breath. It was the last nail in the coffin, as Hanna would say. Mona seemed to be rereading the words on the page. Then suddenly, she crumpled up the note.

Mona's forehead crinkled in sympathy. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I've been listening to my friends, how they've managed to forgive Charles. I wish I could hate him, but I can't. I can't because I know what he went through. I was in the Radley Sanitarium. I was there for months. Charles was there for years and years. Being in that place is what twisted him all out of shape. Let him out. Let him go home. That's all any of us want. Is to have a home. I'm sorry."

Then wordlessly, Mona stood up from the table and walked out the door, a solemn and scared look on her face.

My throat went dry. I exchanged a look with the girls, boring the same shocked expressions on their faces. Charles had been stalking and spying on my friends and I for years, playing twisted games for his own amusement. And now he wanted to come home.

Except now the prank was on him. And this time we were making the rules.

Later that night, Jason led me over to the top of a small, round hill at Rosewood Community Park, a wicker basket in his free hand. The September air was warm and there was a light breeze, and it smelled like apples and wildflowers. When we reached the hill, we settled onto the soft grass.

The hill was rounded, giving the appearance of a meadow. And there were wildflowers everywhere–violet, pink, light blue, and soft white. I could see the valley of trees below. Beyond that were the vast acres of grassy hills. It was just past 7 P.M. and the golden sun hung over the western horizon, slipping into a glittering sunset. I'd come back to the barn a half hour earlier to find Jason with a bouquet of flowers and a picnic basket in his hands. He'd wanted to surprise me for a romantic picnic dinner. And after the day I'd had, I could use something to take my mind off things. I didn't want to deal with Charles right now.

"It's beautiful up here," I breathed.

"Yeah, it is." Jason's gaze was steady on mine.

I blushed. He pulled out a red picnic blanket from the basket and spread it on the ground. His tanned upper arms bulged as he twisted the champagne bottle open with a satisfying _psst_.

I opened up the basket and pulled out some crackers, kalamata olives, fancy grapes, a wedge of Brie cheese, two containers of parmesan couscous with rosemary, and Greek salads. The salad looked pretty good, so I started to spoon some onto a plastic plate. I could feel Jason watching me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You've been kinda quiet." Worried lines formed around his eyes.

I nodded. "Yeah. It's just been a long day."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

I shivered, thinking about Charles being released, and shook my head fiercely. I'd had to take a bunch of Advils just to stop thinking about it. "No. Definitely not."

Jason smiled and took my hand. "It's okay. I don't feel like talking anyway."

I flushed with pleasure at the way he was touching me, reminding me of when we first fell in love. Then Jason leaned in and kissed me softly. His lips hardened, becoming more urgent. It was one of those earthshaking kisses that girls dreamed about, the kind that took your breath away. I'd been longing to kiss him all day.

My heart fluttered as Jason's hand moved beneath my blouse, stroking along my back. The familiar touch of his hands on my skin sent jolts of excitement through my body. I grabbed his face in between my hands and kissed him harder.

"I love you," Jason murmured. He pressed my hand against his cheek, kissing underneath my palm tenderly.

"I love you, too," I answered, then kissed him once more on the lips.

"Do you want some champagne?"

I smiled. "Yes, please."

Jason grabbed the champagne bottle and poured it into two glass flutes before handing one to me. I took a sip, the bubbling liquid warming my chest. Jason's gaze remained fixed on my face.

"What?" I asked.

"How are you feeling after…" Jason trailed off, and I knew he was referring to Charles' hearing.

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I just want it to be over."

Jason stared into my eyes, his face soft. "You know I'm here for you."

"I know," I answered, but I wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Hey." He moved in closer to me. "You can tell me anything."

I picked up a fork to stab at a chunk of lettuce mixed in with mozzarella cheese and olives, and put it in my mouth, pondering how much I should tell him. I stared at the playground below the hill as I chewed, watching as two children scrambled to climb up to the monkey bars. "I told the judge about Charles. How I really felt about him." I swallowed, feelings of guilt piercing my chest. "Ali is never going to forgive me."

"She'll understand," Jason said gently, holding my hand. "Anyone would given what you went through." He paused suddenly. "My sister thinks that Charles will somehow fill in the broken pieces of our family."

There was a protective edge to his voice, and his face was brooding. It made me love him even more for it.

I leaned into him and rested my cheek against his shoulder, gazing up at him. "You're a good brother."

He gave me a tight, half-smile. "Maybe I'd be a better brother if I'd seen what was really happening. Then Ali wouldn't have left home in the first place."

"You are," I insisted. "No one looks after Ali than the way you do. You let her go when the police were going to arrest her for Mona's fake death."

Jason frowned. "I know. She's just so tough that I forget sometimes she's trying to put on a brave face. I know Charles' hearing is hard for her. Ali wasn't even able to come home until after our mom was found." His voice cracked on the word _mom_. A pained look crossed his face.

A deep ache swelled inside my chest. "I miss her," I murmured.

When Jessica was alive, she'd loved me like a daughter, treating me as though I were one of her own. During the months that followed after discovering Mrs. DiLaurentis' murder, I'd been hit by a heavy weight of grief–confusion, anger, regret, longing, fear, love. She was the only mother I really had after my mom had left to go to rehab for her alcohol addiction, caused by my abusive step-father. It turned out that Gabriel Holbrook, one of the younger detectives on the State Police Force, was my biological father, chased away by my other dad, William Clarke, in an attempt to keep my mother and I in his control. Now, five years later, my mom and Gabe were happily married and living in an impressive three-story, Craftsman-style house in Philadelphia, four towns away from Rosewood.

I fidgeted with the gold, heart-shaped locket around my neck. My mother had given it to me at birth, saying it was a special locket. The initials _G.H._ were engraved onto the front for Gabe, my real father. It felt good to wear it.

Jason sighed and put his face into his hands. "When my mom died, I kept reliving that moment when they'd found her over and over. She was the only person in my family who didn't treat me like I was a freak." His lips pressed together grimly, his blue eyes somber. "My dad hated me because he knew I wasn't his real son."

I looked at him, my heart breaking a little. "Don't say that."

While Spencer was still a junior in high school and Jason counseled students there who were struggling with addiction, a dark family secret that the Hastings and the DiLaurentis' had been hiding unraveled. That Jason was Peter's biological son and Spencer's older half-brother, a result of when he'd had an affair with Jessica DiLaurentis years before.

"It's true." He locked eyes with mine. "Everything else in my life is complicated and confusing. But the one thing I am sure of is you." His eyes were wonderfully smoldering and intense as he uttered those last few words.

"I'm yours," I professed.

Jason reached into the bottom of the picnic basket and pulled out a small black velvet box. My heart pitter-pattered. When he opened the lid, two silver Claddagh rings stared back at me. "It's a promise ring. I want you to have it."

His fingers traced over the hands of the ring clasping the heart, surmounted by a crown. "The Claddagh ring represents loyalty and love," he explained.

My hand flew over my mouth in shock and happiness. I couldn't breathe.

"Will you wear my promise ring?" he asked, his eyes still intense.

I nodded, tears of joy brimming over my eyes. "Yes."

Jason took out the smaller Claddagh ring and slid it onto my ring finger of my right hand, pointing the heart towards my wrist. I placed the bigger ring on Jason's right hand in the same position.

Jason pulled me in close and pressed his mouth against mine. His lips felt warm and gentle, and he tasted like sweet grapes and fizzy champagne. I gripped his shoulders, clinging onto him as I parted my lips for him. Jason stroked my mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss and making me dizzy. I knotted my fingers in the tousled mess of his golden blonde hair in response.

When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with emotion. I laid my head against Jason's chest, smelling his eucalyptus scent, feeling his heartbeat begin to slow. His hand stroked up and down my back. And suddenly, the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of us.

Then Jason pushed the container of couscous toward me. "You should eat something."

"I am eating something." I showed him my salad plate, grinning playfully.

"Eat," he ordered.

I scooped some couscous onto my spoon and popped it into my mouth, chewing slowly. The couscous was good. I took another sip of my champagne and swallowed before turning to Jason. "This is really good," I complimented.

"It was my mom's old recipe." Jason picked off a grape and popped it into his mouth.

Both of us tipsy, we kissed some more and drank the champagne as we watched the sun melt behind the horizon. Jason wrapped his arms around me and I snuggled in closer to him. It was in that moment I knew that I wanted to marry him and we would be together forever. Everything was perfect.

After finishing off the bottle of champagne, we packed up the empty food containers and stood up to leave. I held Jason's hand in mine as we walked home, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Spencer

Sunday night, I inspected my reflection in the large, full-length mirror in the barn's bathroom. Tonight was my date with Toby and it was just a little before six, the time he'd said he would pick me up for dinner.

I'd tried on three different dresses before finally settling on a bright red, tight bandage dress. It was backless, stopping at my mid-thighs with thick shoulder straps. I'd put on a push-up bra underneath, making my chest look bigger and more appealing. It fit snugly around my body, emphasizing my hips. And the dress dipped slightly below the top of my breasts, pushing them up seductively.

I slid my feet into a pair of black stilettos and slipped on a teensy, light-blue lacy thong. Although I'd sprayed myself with Stella McCarthy perfume, my stomach was still full of butterflies. I hadn't gone on a date with Toby since high school, and so many years had passed between us–fighting with him, loving him, missing him, trying to forget about us, losing him. I wasn't sure if he still felt the same way I did. All day, I'd been jittery with nerves, thinking about tonight. There was so much I wanted to say to Toby, but I had no idea where to begin.

I applied a coat of burberry mallow-colored pink lip gloss on my lips and tugged at my dress nervously, trying to adjust it so that not _too_ much of me was exposed. After carefully styling my hair in elaborate voluminous curls, I stared back into the mirror and smiled with satisfaction.

 _Perfect_.

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang. I grabbed my purse and jacket, and headed out into the hall. When I opened the front door, my heart sped up. Toby stood on the porch, looking gorgeous in a silver grey button-down shirt and dark pants, and his wavy brown hair was tousled to perfection.

Toby stared at me and his lips parted, looking stunned.

I smiled at him. "Hi."

"Hi," he said. His eyes moved over my dress and long, bare legs appreciatively. "You look…wow. You look stunning."

I blushed. "Thank you. You look very handsome."

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah."

I locked the door behind me, and we walked over to his truck, which was parked in the driveway by the barn. Tears filled my eyes when I realized it was the same gold Chevy pick-up truck I'd bought him years ago. He opened the passenger door for me as I stepped in, shutting it behind me. I still had to pinch myself to make sure this was real.

Toby walked around the front of the truck and got in. And then he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, slowly driving into town.

We were both silent as Toby entered the oncoming traffic. I stared at my hands. I half-expected him to reach for my hand out of habit, and feeling disappointed when he didn't.

I stared out the truck window in an attempt to calm my nerves. The courthouse, where I'd been only hours before, passed by. It was right to the Rosewood Memorial Hospital, giving a clear view of the hospital's front entrance. I remembered staying by Toby's bedside all night after he'd gotten into a car accident on his way to his Police Academy graduation ceremony. And I had even perfected the star-shaped neon sign outside of the motel to memory, the one where Toby confessed that he was secretly working with Mona to keep me safe from A.

I wished I could go back to that day inside my dorm room and change everything that had happened between Toby and I–go back to before I'd left for college. When things had been perfect between us. The day Toby sat with me in my dorm at Georgetown University, I'd been a mess. I sat on my twin-size bed across from him, scared of what was going to happen next. Little did I know that I would lose him two weeks later. It was that fateful day sophomore year, when Toby had shown up in Washington D.C. to try to help me through the hardest decision I would ever have to make. And I wished so badly that I could change what I did next.

I had the most perfect boyfriend, and I'd thrown it all away.

I quickly looked away, turning back to Toby as he continued driving. And then he parallel-parked against the curb. I looked out the window to see the lights of Rive Gauche, the French and Italian restaurant that I loved. Toby and I used to go there every Saturday night when we were dating. It always reminded me of Paris, with their rich wine and strong-flavored cheeses. I unbuckled my seatbelt while Toby stepped out of the truck and came around to my side.

He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open for me. "After you."

"Thanks." I swooned.

He put a hand on my lower back as I walked in. The restaurant was intimate, and the lights were dim and romantic. There were small tables with linen tablecloths and banquette booths, gold-colored walls, and Shakespearean oil paintings of his tragic plays hung around the rooms. It was very romantic. And most importantly, the restaurant wasn't crowded.

The hostess waiting for us was a pretty, young blonde. She was tall and slender with a much more prominent chest than mine, wearing the white button-down Rive Gauche uniform. She greeted Toby a little more warmly than she needed to. I was surprised by how much that bothered me.

"We have dinner reservations for six-thirty under Cavanaugh," Toby told the host.

Her eyes flickered to Toby's hand on my back, dissatisfied by the closeness between us. She led us to the back of a private area, a small table for two. A lit white candle and a small vase of red roses sat in the center of the table.

After settling in, the hostess turned to us. "Your server will be right with you." She left, disappointed.

I looked at Toby. "She's pretty."

Toby noticed the look on my face and smiled, catching my meaning. "You're the prettiest girl here." He reached across the table to squeeze my hand, and my insides turned over. It felt like he could intuit my every thought and desires. And it didn't help how hot he looked. Every girl in the restaurant was checking him out.

But Toby was looking at me like we were the only two people in the room, that familiar tenderness evident in his deep blue eyes. I stared back as he continued to gaze intensely into my eyes.

Then the waiter arrived, interrupting our intense gazing. He was about average height, with bright green eyes and wavy dark hair, and had the body frame of an athlete. When the guy saw me, his eyes lit up with interest.

"Hello, my name is Adam, and I'll be your server tonight. Are you ready to order?" He gave me an alluring smile, seeming to forget that Toby was there.

Before I could order, Toby said, "She'll have spaghetti Bolognese and a cherry soda with crushed ice, and I'll have the eggplant lasagna." He glanced at the menu. "What do you have for the wine list?"

"The Pinot Noir red wine is a popular choice," the waiter answered.

"Two glasses of the Pinot Noir red wine, please."

"We only sell that by the bottle."

Toby nodded. "Then we'll have the bottle."

The waiter grabbed our menus and he left. I stared at Toby, feeling touched. He'd ordered my favorite meal without even having to ask; I didn't think he remembered. In many ways, he was still the same man I fell in love with all those years ago.

Toby looked back at me. "What?"

"You remembered my order," I replied.

"I know you." He smiled at me with amusement, hinting to our earlier conversation about the house.

I blushed. "It's funny, so many things have changed." I leveled my eyes with his. "Except you."

For a minute, neither of us spoke, and I worried that I'd said something that had upset him. But then Toby gave me a beautiful, half-crooked smile. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

I couldn't help but laugh, and then paused. "Do you remember that night we spent together at the motel?"

His eyes shined. "Of course I do. That was the first time I beat you at Scrabble."

"It was not a complete ass-kicking!" I protested. "I got Glyceraldehyde."

"Only you would try to win with a word like Glyceraldehyde," he teased.

Toby's playfulness brought back a wave of memories that washed through me. "Hey!" I cried. "I was going to win that game until you came up with goofball."

Toby snorted. "Sure."

I smiled. It felt so good to talk to him like this again.

"I miss this," he finally said.

"What?" I asked.

"Us." Something in his gaze told me that I should leave, but his presence was so comforting.

Then unexpectedly, Toby stared deeply into my eyes. "I'll never forget the summer we spent at the lake house. Those were the best days of my life."

My breath caught in my throat. "Mine, too," I breathed.

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. I remembered our time together at my parents' lake house well. It was the first summer we'd spent together as a couple. Toby and I had taken weekend trips out there, making love in the master bedroom before falling asleep, and then waking up in each other's arms. Toby would make me breakfast every morning, and we even had picnics together outside by the apple trees. Then, at night, we'd go skinny dipping in the lake beneath the silvery glow of the full moon. I remembered feeling so safe and loved, and happier than I'd ever been in my entire life.

The waiter finally arrived with our wine as Toby and I sat staring at each other, both of us filled with reminiscing memories. The label on the bottle implied that the wine was French. The waiter removed the cork with a flourish and filled both our glasses, placing the bottle on the table before returning to the kitchen. Toby hadn't taken his eyes off me. I picked up my glass and took a big gulp, breaking eye contact. It tasted like rich grapes with a hint of cherries.

Toby took a sip of his wine. "Are you happy?" His blue eyes pierced mine, compelling me to tell the truth once again.

I sighed, tracing the ridge of my wine glass. "I don't know. Nothing turned out the way I expected. Are you?"

He shrugged. "Most of the time."

"I'm really glad you're here," I said. "Lately, it feels like I'm all alone." I stared into the candle's flame, lost in thought.

I'd fantasized about going to college to become an interior designer, with dreams of one day having my own company to decorate homes and businesses. And then my father intervened, pressuring me to be a politician. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect or how high my grades were in college, nothing was ever good enough for my rich, proper parents. And it didn't help that they'd always favored Melissa over me. My dad had high expectations of me to be a successful politician and to give our family a good name after the Charles incident, so I changed my major to politics instead, minoring in interior design as a backup plan. I'd taken the lobbyist job after I finished both of my degrees in politics and interior design, when I was passed over for the political advisor position. Now, at twenty-three, I sometimes found myself wondering if my life would've turned out differently if I had followed my dreams rather than my parents.

Somewhere along the way, I'd lost sight of who I really was and the person I wanted to be, and I didn't know how to get her back. When I lost Toby, I'd lost who I was. And for a long time, I'd fallen hopelessly into a dark place.

After I finished the required college courses to get my political science and government degree at Georgetown, I'd suddenly lost interest in politics altogether and decided to fall back on my plans of pursuing my dreams of being an interior designer. I even looked into a couple of open positions close by Georgetown, thinking I might apply. But when my mother announced that she was running for state senator following my graduation, my career choice was put on hold. Being a political advisor and campaign manager seemed like the right way to go. My mother's campaign cemented my decision not to apply for the designer job. I'd set aside my portfolio and put away my application form at the bottom of my desk drawer. By then, I'd already started my job as a lobbyist at the Cannon House, and the Feminist Majority Organization kept me busy and distracted me from missing Toby.

In some ways, Caleb helped me forget the pain of losing Toby and the numbness that came along with it. It wasn't just the easy way we bantered back and forth, or that he didn't watch me out of the corner of his eye the way everyone else did because he thought I was crazy or depressed. Caleb was funny and one of the smartest guys I knew, which I liked. And he didn't sugarcoat the truth. Most guys were intimidated by me, but not Caleb. He always told it straight to me. Whenever I was near him, I felt happier and unconcerned about what the future held. It was enough to make me forget about Toby and our devastating breakup. Almost.

We didn't see each other for a while after high school until I'd run into him unexpectedly in Madrid while I was waiting for my train at the station. I was just finishing up my year studying abroad in Spain, and Caleb was backpacking through Europe. But just before I boarded the train, I heard my name being called, and when I looked up, I saw him standing on the opposite platform. We'd ended up taking the train together and we caught up with each other. And when Caleb and I got off the train, he bought us drinks and dragged me to a bullfight, where people screamed at the Matador to kill the bull. Amidst all the chaos, I'd called the drunken crowd savages. But in the end, the Matador had plunged his sword straight into the bull's heart, killing him. Furious, I'd fled the arena and ran out into the street in tears. Caleb found me later and snuck us into Retiro Park with bottles of Sangria that he'd stolen from one of the stands. I'd gulped down the liquor until the early hours of dawn, wasted in the park. Then Caleb dropped me off at my motel room, and by the next day, I took the plane back to D.C. alone.

After that, Caleb came to D.C. to see me every six months. While he ran a security company in New York, I immersed myself in my work, though we still continued to see each other as friends. Other than my phone, Caleb was the only person I had a relationship with. Over the years, I'd slowly isolated myself from people and the rest of the world, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Caleb's success in the company grew rapidly. He wanted to make enough money to build a life with Hanna. So he took advantage of the spyware and continued his illegal hacking, until eventually the head CEO of the security company finally had to let him go, leaving Caleb with no real job and no money. Fed up with Hanna's passionate commitment to her job, Caleb left her in New York and his visits to D.C. became more frequent. Most of our evenings out were spent drinking at bars all night, with Caleb crashing on my couch. After that, my drinking habit settled into a predictable pattern.

If anything, my depression reawakened the craving to drink, and I threw myself into the Feminist Majority Organization to keep my misery at bay. I plastered a smile onto my face every day to try to pretend everything was fine, even though I was dying on the inside. I had to appear perfect and normal. Any cracks in the armor I'd worked so hard to build up around me would show the world that I was spiraling out of control, and I couldn't let Toby see that. So I had to pretend that I was okay. Every time I felt like I was about to lose control, I inhaled deep breaths to keep myself calm.

The years passed, and the only contact I had with Toby was through occasional emails and text messages. Not seeing Toby or talking to him hurt worse than watching him walk out of my life. Whenever I found my thoughts drifting back to him as they often did, I busied myself with work and eventually turned into a full-blown alcoholic. There'd been several occasions when I'd have a glass of wine with dinner. What had originally started as a way to numb the pain, quickly morphed into something I could no longer control. But the numbness was better than the aching, throbbing agony I felt every time I saw Toby's face floating around in my mind.

By the time I reached our anniversary in November, of when Toby and I first became a couple, I was already drinking excessively. I went through bottles of wine and beer each night until I blacked out and passed out on the couch of my living room, even when I had to work the next morning. Yet, I still came into work right on the dot and I always paid the rent. I didn't know who I was anymore. Whenever I let myself slip back into the bad memories, I'd walk forward and invite the demon inside. And the same questions remained: why couldn't I shake this? Why couldn't I stop loving him?

I never knew the answer. The only thing I did know was that it was excruciating. I didn't want my friends and my family to worry about me, to see the pity on their faces when they realized I was a heartbroken mess. Or that my mom and dad might begin to suspect my downward spiral as I escaped into more alcohol.

Every day without Toby was harder than the next. I felt sad and alone, and I couldn't help wondering how my life had turned out this way.

When I noticed Toby staring at me, I realized traitor tears had trickled down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away with my hand.

"What about college?" he asked, holding his glass of wine. "Did you get your degree?"

I paused, thinking of my life back in Georgetown, unsure of how to answer his question. "I did," I answered slowly. "But I didn't get the interior design job I wanted."

Toby raised an eyebrow at me in surprise. "Oh?"

I took a gulp of wine. "I never finished the required college courses for that. I took a lobbyist position instead at the Feminist Majority Organization after graduating with a degree for political science and government."

I reached for the bottle of wine and poured more into both of our glasses. "But what about you?" I asked abruptly, desperately trying to change the topic to something more pleasant. "What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?"

We filled each other in on our lives, going into full detail about what was really going on with us. Toby was working hard trying to finish building his dream house, and I was stressed and anxious from helping my mother with her campaign. I was surprised by how easy and natural it felt to talk to Toby. I told him about my life in D.C., my job, and the people I worked with who had inspired me the most. I admitted how empty and meaningless my life was since we broke up. I talked about running into Caleb in Spain, though just saying his name made me feel strangely guilty, almost like I was cheating on him, and I never mentioned him again. And it was much better that way. I told Toby about the places I'd visited, of my adventures in Spain. And when he asked me questions about my career, I told him about my future plans of becoming an interior designer. He seemed genuinely interested in my life, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

When I was finished, I'd ask Toby what his life was like now that he had decided to stay in Rosewood, what it was like moving out of the loft and into a trailer, and how things were going for him at the police station. And then he started talking about how he had been studying architecture in his spare time. I listened intently to him, watching his perfect mouth and listened to his beautiful, deep voice, feeling myself get more tipsy as he talked.

A few minutes later, the waiter came back with our food. He set down our plates in front of us and retreated back to the kitchen.

The aroma of my spaghetti smelled heavenly, and I realized how hungry I really was. I twirled some noodles onto my fork and took a bite as Toby chewed his food–it was really good. And I suddenly found myself wondering if he was seeing someone, but then shoved the thought away.

"Wow," I said. "This is amazing."

Toby smiled. "It is, isn't it?" He reached out and took another sip of wine. "I know it's your favorite."

I shoveled another bite into my mouth, trying to keep my feelings for him locked up tight. After swallowing, I stabbed at the spaghetti again. As I ate, I could feel him watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"I just can't get over how beautiful you look."

My heart fluttered. "Toby…"

"I mean it," he said sincerely. "You've always been beautiful to me. You still are." Toby leveled his eyes to mine, and I couldn't breathe.

The way he was looking at me brought back a whole flood of memories, the past, the way things used to be between us, who I was when I was with him. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

Toby hesitated. "Do you remember our first kiss? After we spent the night together at that motel?"

Millions of butterflies fluttered around in my stomach at the mention of our first kiss. "Of course I do. That was when I first realized that I was falling in love with you."

Toby looked surprised. "I thought it was when you turned back and ran into my arms at the carnival?"

I shook my head, smiling at the memory. "That kiss we shared just confirmed everything I was feeling. I'd never met anyone like you before. You were…different. With you, I never know what to expect, and when you kissed me, I knew I was head over heels in love with you."

"I've never met anyone like you, either." Surprising me, Toby reached across the table and took my hand, stroking my skin. His hand felt large and warm wrapped around my own. I closed my eyes and sighed softly.

Another memory suddenly came into clear focus across my mind, as though it had happened yesterday.

"You're the only guy I've ever been with," I admitted. "That was my first time."

"I know," Toby whispered, and he squeezed my hand.

"I remember the day you came back, and I was so happy," I went on. "I was so scared that I was going to lose you when you left. It was in that moment that I realized I was ready, that life was too short. You were the only person I ever wanted to give my virginity to because I loved and trusted you more than anything. And you were so patient and good to me about waiting." I stroked the back of his hand gently with my fingertips. "When I told you I wasn't ready, you never pressured me. I felt so comfortable with you."

"Did you regret it when you found out I was working with Mona?" He looked at me beneath his lashes guiltily.

"No," I answered automatically. "Deep down, I knew you would never hurt me and that you really loved me as much as I loved you. You were always protecting me. When we shared ourselves like that for the first time, it felt like you were a part of me. I'll never forget it. That moment between us will always be special to me."

Toby absentmindedly played with my fingers while still rubbing my hand lovingly. I didn't want him to ever stop touching me.

The low, flickering glow from the candle made the room feel dark and intimate, and shivers of anticipation trembled through me. I wanted Toby so much; I wanted him more than my own oxygen.

His eyes gleamed playfully. "After the first time, we both wanted more. It was even more incredible the second time. We couldn't stop."

I swallowed the big lump that had formed in my throat, biting back tears. I would not let myself cry in front of him. Not now, when we were having such a good time together. "I remember. I felt so close to you. I suddenly wanted to be with you all the time, more than usual. It was like we were forever connected."

"When I first told you that I loved you, I knew that I wanted to marry you, more than anything."

My eyes welled up with tears. "And have a baby with a six-pack."

Toby laughed, then turned serious again. He lifted my hand up to his lips and kissed it, pressing his cheek into my inner palm. Light spread throughout my body and I leaned in to grab his hand, kissing his fingers.

Still holding his hand, I studied him. "Why am I here, Toby?"

Toby ran a hand through his hair and then his face became very serious. "I miss you, Spence. I've really missed you. Not having you in my life has been unbearable. You're not just someone I loved back then; you're my heart, my best friend. You make me feel alive. And I want to be with you till the end of time." His face softened, looking more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him. "I love you, Spencer. You've always been my soulmate."

I melted at his words. "I love you, too," I whispered. "I never stopped, and I don't think I ever will."

My connection with Toby had always been deep and powerful, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the person I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. He was my soulmate.

We talked all through dinner, the pale moonlight glowing through the window and illuminating Toby's face. We held hands and talked some more. It was like neither of us never wanted to leave each other. I sipped some more of my wine, stared into his eyes, and felt myself falling even more in love with him. The wine bottle was empty by the time we finished our meal, and I felt warm and buzzed. When it was time for dessert, Toby got me my favorite, chocolate truffle cake.

I looked at the piece of cake in front of me. It looked divine, with swirls of chocolate syrup on top and had shaved chocolate chips on the sides.

"Eat," he ordered, his eyes warm.

I picked up my fork obediently and took a bite. I smiled. "This is perfect. And not just the cake, you being here."

Toby smiled at me sweetly and said nothing.

I rolled the delicious chocolate over my tongue, slowly savoring it. Toby leaned in closer to me, rubbing his thumb across my hand in small, gentle circles. The extra attention he was giving me during dinner made me feel loved again, and I was enjoying every minute of it.

Finally, he looked up, his eyes getting bluer by the second. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," I said, feeling sad that the night was almost over. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him yet.

The waiter appeared as if on cue.

"How are we doing?" he asked me.

"We're ready for the check," Toby told him, ignoring his blatant ogling of my exposed long legs.

"Sure." He had a small leather folder ready for him.

After Toby paid the check, I stumbled out of my chair drunkenly, but he was right there to catch me. I fell into his arms, and he held me tightly against his chest. His wonderful, intoxicating scent rolled off him and swirled all around me. I closed my eyes against the beating of my erratic heart. He smelled of leather and sandalwood. _This is where I belong_.

Toby slid an arm around my waist as he walked me to the door, his touch electrifying. We reached his truck, and he opened the passenger door for me for the second time that night. I watched him walk around the front of the truck to his side, in disbelief that this was really happening. I was probably imagining all of it, and by tomorrow morning, this all would have been nothing more than a dream. I was like Cinderella, but without the carriage and a prince to sweep me off my feet. It was depressing to realize that my love story was over, I wasn't the princess anymore.

As Toby drove back to my parents' house, I'd catch him watching me from the corner of my eye, and I found myself gazing right back at him. It seemed our hearts had reconnected that night, and it didn't feel weird or awkward between us. And even though Toby and I had been apart for years, it felt like we'd never disconnected at all.

Toby was quiet on the way back to my parents' house, and I wondered if he had changed his mind about us. The thought made my heart constrict. He'd rolled down the window inside the truck, hoping the cool air would subside the rolling aches of nausea in my stomach. I'd had one too many to drink, while Toby remained sober. I grimaced.

When he pulled into the driveway, he helped walk me back home to the barn, holding me up so I wouldn't fall. I inhaled long, deep breaths. Drunk from the bottle of red wine I'd shared with Toby, beads of sweat started to gather at my forehead and the trees bordering my parents' backyard spun around me.

Toby kept his arm around me as I walked unsteadily toward the barn's front door. I held my stomach, coughing as I struggled to hold back the bile that was threatening to rise in my throat.

Toby quickly led me over to the bathroom inside, and I immediately dove for the toilet. I felt so horrible that I didn't even care that he was watching me while I crouched over the toilet, vomiting violently.

"Shhh," Toby soothed. He rubbed my back.

I could barely concentrate on what he was saying. He held back my hair as my stomach heaved again. I moaned miserably.

"Are you okay?" He sounded deeply concerned.

"Toby," I moaned again. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted.

After Toby helped me up gently to wash out my mouth, he picked me up in his arms and carried me over to the bed in my room, setting me down gently. I collapsed onto the pillows, my head aching. Then he dug through the top drawer of my dresser until he found something more comfortable for me to wear to bed, one of his oversize T-shirts and a pair of blue plaid boxers that I'd pilfered from his loft a few years ago.

Toby slowly took off my dress and heels, leaving me bare and naked in only my thong. I didn't bother trying to cover myself; I felt so comfortable and safe with him. He was the only person that I could be naked around.

When Toby was finished dressing me, he pulled the thick comforter over me, tucking me into bed. The wine I'd gulped down earlier came rushing back to my head, making the room around me spin. Not only was I drunk on wine, but I was also drunk on Toby. Although it was tough to be back in Rosewood again, he made the rest of the world melt away. And after having dinner with him and finally being with him again, I couldn't remember a time when I'd been happier.

"I miss making love with you," I slurred.

Toby's lips spread up into a big smile. "I miss making love with you, too."

He kissed my forehead, then turned for the door. Panic squeezed my chest at the thought of him leaving me.

As he started to walk away, I grabbed his hand. "No, don't leave," I begged.

Toby stopped, looking at me softly.

"Please don't go. I don't want to be alone." Tears brimmed over my eyes and slid down my cheeks.

Toby sat down on the bed next to me and touched my cheek. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you. I'll stay with you for as long as you need me."

I let out a breath of relief.

He stroked my cheek tenderly. "I'm going to go get changed for bed, okay? I'll be right back."

I nodded. "Okay."

I watched Toby as he walked down the hall to the bathroom, hearing the door click as he shut it behind him. Just being away from him for even a few minutes made me ache.

When he returned, he'd stripped down to a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs that were so tight that I could see the shape of his butt. My cheeks grew very hot, and I had to force myself to look away. I hadn't seen Toby like this since we were dating.

Toby crawled underneath the covers next to me and snuggled with me, burying his face into my neck and wrapping his arms around my body from behind. I closed my eyes, but I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck and his heartbeat thumping slowly against my back. How could I possibly fall asleep with Toby right next to me?

Suddenly, his lips were at my ear. "Are you asleep?"

"No," I answered.

"Why not?"

"I'm not tired."

It was true; I was wide awake. It felt like I was on hyper drive, my skin electrified. And having Toby's half-naked body pressed up against mine didn't help matters.

"Do you want me to rub your back?" he offered. "That always used to help."

My heart throbbed. "Sure."

Toby touched his hands to the middle of my back and started rubbing slow, gentle circles in between my shoulder blades and along my spine, moving down to the area below my waist. I sighed, leaning into him slightly and relaxing a little. The feeling of his hands rubbing my back felt so soothing and comforting.

"How's that?" he whispered.

"Amazing," I sighed. I paused in the darkness. "Toby?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to still be here when I wake up?" I asked anxiously. I wanted to make sure.

"I'll never leave you," he promised.

After a few minutes, my eyes grew heavy and I found myself drifting off to sleep with Toby's arms around me.

Toby

"Toby."

My eyes fluttered open in the darkness, waking up the sound of my name being spoken. It took me a few moments before I realized where I was. The digital clock on the nightstand said it was 3:00 A.M., and the morning sun outside filtered in through the window. I was in a clean, bluish-gray bedroom. There was an oil painting of a couple cuddling in bed on the wall, contrasted in shades of dark and light, and I immediately recognized it as the painting I'd given to Spencer right before she'd left for college. Spencer had entangled herself in my arms and legs in her sleep, and her head was resting peacefully against my chest.

It all made sense now. Spencer was talking in her sleep. I'd always been a light sleeper, so it was no surprise that her sleep-talking would wake me up this early in the morning.

"Don't leave me," she said quietly. Spencer suddenly became restless, moaning and mumbling. I stroked her hair softly, wondering if she was still worried that I would leave her sometime in the morning. To comfort her, I hummed to her and she grew still in my arms.

Last night, after Spencer had gotten sick from drinking too much at dinner, I put her to bed and watched her sleep, too afraid that she'd get sicker if I left. She had a difficult time falling asleep. The constant visits to the bathroom vomiting emptied her stomach and I had to rehydrate her with water. This was the first time I'd slept and stayed over with Spencer since we broke up. But the truth was, I had other reasons for staying. Being separated from Spencer was more painful than anything I'd ever known. Every time I was away from her, it felt like a part of me was being ripped out. The void in the center of my chest never ceased to lessen over time. It cut wide open when I was away from her, and healed instantly when I was with her.

Holding Spencer in my arms filled me with pure happiness–to watch her chest rise and fall with every breath, to feel her warm body molded against mine as she dozed, to hear her talking in her sleep, smelling her lovely scent. And it had felt so good to hold her in my arms all night. I didn't realize how much I'd truly missed her until now. Whenever I looked at Spencer, I was overcome with the strongest desire to trace her lips with my fingertips, to touch them. I wanted to kiss her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, and lower, along her neck and breasts, and the tempting curves below that. I imagined removing her shirt and pressing my lips against her bare skin, holding Spencer against me as she opened up her legs at my hips, begging me…

Spencer suddenly shifted in my arms, breaking me out of my fantasy. My heart pounded. She was so beautiful.

I gazed at Spencer's relaxed, slumbering face. Her long, dark-brown hair spilled across my chest in twisted waves, and her ivory skin was flawless. There was a freckle on her left cheek near her lips, she had a perfectly pointed chin, and beautiful deep brown doe eyes, and smelled like lavender and vanilla.

Just then, Spencer whispered, "I love you, Toby."

My heart jumped inside my chest. She loved me.

At the restaurant, I'd told Spencer that I still loved her and she wanted to be with me, even while knowing how much pain I'd caused her. It seemed that she'd been fighting her love for me as I had all those years we'd been apart. A sharp, agonizing sensation of guilty feelings seared through me as I remembered walking away from Spencer that fateful day in Washington. She couldn't possibly want me. I didn't deserve her after everything I'd put her through. She was too good, too caring and selfless for me. I didn't want to hurt Spencer, but as long as she was with me, I would end up hurting her again one way or another. I couldn't handle losing her again.

Some time through the break of dawn, Spencer started mumbling in her sleep again. "I want to marry you."

In that moment, I realized everything about our relationship–leaving Spencer alone in her dorm room, the panic and fear of that day, Spencer pushing me away, not fighting for her soon enough–had been a mistake, and I never should have left. As I gazed upon her face again, I felt my heart beating fast and vibrantly again. I quickly rejected the pain of trying to stay away from her so I could start focusing on becoming the kind of man she deserved.

I slowly detangled myself from Spencer and gently slid my arm out from underneath her. Then I tucked the blankets around her and I padded out into the barn's spacious, modern kitchen to make breakfast. Spencer had remodeled it during the summer before 11th grade so she could live there for the remaining years of high school, putting in a sleek marble-topped island, massive stainless-steel fridge, and state-of-the-art kitchen appliances.

I decided to cook Spencer some pancakes and opened the fridge, where I found a carton of eggs wedged in between a jug of orange juice and a bag of grinded coffee beans. I smiled to myself. Spencer had an unhealthy addiction to coffee, and needed to have at least some caffeine in her body or else she would become cranky and irritable. It felt nice to know some things hadn't changed.

I took out the eggs and some bacon, and set aside a bowl from the overhead cupboards for the batter. I concentrated on whisking the eggs, making myself busy around the kitchen.

Cooking allowed me some time to think, dwelling on the memory of the last time I saw Spencer in Washington. The image of her sitting cross-legged on her dorm room bed, tears streaking down her face. I saw how scared she looked, and tiny pieces of my heart broke off. I should have comforted her when she needed me most, when I thought she needed space, instead of running away like a coward. I couldn't even bare to look at her face as I walked away. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to hold it together. It hurt just to think about.

 _I'm not ready for this_. My head spun as Spencer's words played through my head once more, sounding fuzzy and incoherent, like I was listening to them underwater. But they ripped open my gaping, bleeding heart nonetheless. This was the last thing I wanted to be thinking about right now; I didn't want to remember this.

Spencer had said she didn't see the same future with me anymore. But did she still feel that way now? I wondered if she'd just said it in the heat of the moment, or if she really wasn't looking at the same picture that I was. Of being married someday and having kids of our own, living happily together in a big house somewhere. My stomach twisted at the thought that she wouldn't want the same things I did with her. If that was true, the dream house I'd been building for the last three years would all be for nothing. I blocked the images from my mind, shuddering away from the memory.

I added flour and the rest of the ingredients to the pancake batter, beating them in, and got started on the bacon. I put the bacon on the hot stove, and while those cooked, I poured the bowl of egg mix into another pan.

"Toby?"

When I looked up, Spencer stood out in the hallway by her room. She was still wearing the T-shirt she'd slept in, and her bed-hair made her look even more beautiful. A look of relief washed over her face when her eyes finally settled on mine.

I grinned. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Good," Spencer said. "I think that's the first time I was able to get a good night's sleep."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she answered, eyeing the pancakes in the frying pan.

I turned over the bacon, the greasy, cackling aroma filling the room. Spencer walked over to me behind the stove, and I kissed her on the forehead. To my surprise, she leaned into me.

I pressed my nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply. Sweet, delicious, intoxicating, the scent made me want more. I wanted to breathe it in.

"Mmm," I sighed. "I've missed your smell."

I felt Spencer shiver with delight in my arms as I stroked her soft hair with my fingers. She looked up at me, her eyes hungry with a desire that made my lower belly quiver and sent my heart pounding. We stared at each other for a moment, not saying anything, but feeling the sexual tension between us tightening and threatening to explode. I knew what she wanted and I longed so much to satisfy it, but I knew we couldn't. It wasn't right yet.

Spencer's hands slowly slid down my chest, seeming to understand what I was thinking, and she moved towards the refrigerator to take out a carton of fresh orange juice. It felt like she could read all of my thoughts like a book, but that's how it'd always been with Spencer. The realization comforted me. Nobody ever made me feel the way that Spencer did. She was the moon to my sun, fire to my ice, a river to my sea. She was every part of me as I was of her.

While I served the pancakes onto a couple of plates, Spencer poured some orange juice into two glasses that she found from the cupboard. Then she skidded over to the coffee machine on the opposite side of the kitchen counter island and started making coffee. I pressed my lips together to hide the smirk on my face.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

"I'd love some."

I set the food on the kitchen counter island and then added the glasses of orange juice. Spencer joined me a second later with two cups of hot coffee. She handed one of them to me and sat down at the table.

I watched Spencer intensively as she took a bite of pancakes, examining her face for any signs of nausea. All throughout the night, I'd worried endlessly about her vomiting and the amounts of wine she'd had during dinner. She was so fragile. I never wanted to leave Spencer's side; I would worry about her too much.

I continued to stare at her, my forehead puckering with deep concern. But Spencer's face was pink and flushed, her eyes bright.

She caught my gaze. "What?"

My breathing quickened, and the comfortable silence between Spencer and I hummed. The cackling electricity pulsed between us again, strengthening my desire to touch her. To press my lips against every inch of her bare skin, to hold her smooth and soft, perfectly-shaped breasts in my hands, to feel our bodies together again, to see her naked again. The throbbing electricity made me feel alive, and my body sang with the sensation. I struggled desperately to find the strength to control my raging hormones that Spencer pulled out of me.

Finally, I swallowed. "How are you feeling? Are you okay after last night?"

"I haven't been okay for a while," Spencer answered truthfully. "Everything's been so scary and confusing, and I don't know how to face it alone." Her chin wobbled.

I reached over to hold her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I will never, ever let you feel alone like that again," I promised.

I kissed the crown of her hair.

Spencer sighed deeply. "Everything is always better when you're here."

I smiled. "I had a great time last night."

She returned my smile. "Me, too. We should have dinner together more often."

I paused. "When can I see you again?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know. I'm supposed to have drinks with the girls at The Radley tomorrow night."

I was surprised by how much pain it caused me to think of her leaving. I didn't want to say goodbye to her.

"Oh, right," I said, even though I didn't recall her telling me about having plans with her best friends until now.

Spencer must have heard something in my voice because she said, "But I can see you the morning before I leave."

"But I don't want you to go," I whispered.

"Then ask me to stay," she whispered back.

"Stay." I gazed fiercely into her eyes, begging her to stay.

We held each other's eyes, and the atmosphere between us charged with electricity. I realized Spencer and I were unconsciously leaning towards each other, moving closer and closer, and I couldn't breathe. She was so close, I could touch my lips to hers. I wanted to kiss her more than anything.

But instead of going in for a kiss, I stopped myself. I had made a commitment to someone else that I would soon have to break, and I couldn't be with Spencer until it was resolved. It wouldn't be fair to her.

I leaned back a little, swallowing hard. "Um, are you happy to be back in Rosewood?" I asked roughly, still recovering from the tension between us.

Spencer blinked, as if waking up from a dream. "I don't know," she said quietly. "When I'm here, it's just another reminder of all the bad things that have happened. I wish I could go back to when things were normal."

I stared at her, finding myself relate to those same feelings.

"I get it." I sighed. "I like it here, but when I first came back to Rosewood, it felt like everyone was constantly judging me, like they didn't get me. And if you're not as perfect as they are, then you're a freak. But I think being different is good. I like different." I purposely lingered my eyes on hers.

Spencer's eyes softened. "I miss talking to you."

"You can always talk to me," I assured her.

Spencer smiled. "I love knowing that."

Then she speared another piece of pancakes with her fork and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly. "This is delicious."

I flushed. "It was nothing." I looked away so she couldn't see my eyes and took a forkful of the pancakes, savoring the syrupy and buttery goodness.

"You always say that."

"Well, you deserve the moon and all the stars in the world."

An appealing blush colored her cheeks. As Spencer continued to eat, I gazed at her lovingly. My eyes moved over her face, slowly memorizing her features. The depth in her warm brown eyes, her long, soft brown hair, the slight dimple in her chin, her soft, plump lips, the lovely shade of pink in her cheeks, the beauty mark on her left cheek. I couldn't stop staring at her; she was so beautiful. I loved everything about Spencer.

I stared at Spencer's lips, filled with the strong temptation to kiss her, thinking dreamily what it would feel like to have the heat of those luscious lips connecting with mine once again. My feelings for Spencer flowed throughout my body like fire, making me feel buzzed and happy, growing stronger with each passing minute.

She turned her gaze to mine, distracting me from my dangerous thoughts.

"I miss you," I whispered, unable to control myself. "And I want us to be together again, to have a fresh start. Will you give me a second chance?"

Spencer's mouth gaped open at my words, her eyes widening with surprise. I could tell from the emotion in her eyes that she wasn't expecting me to say it.

My heart stopped beating as I waited patiently for her answer.

Finally, her lips pulled up at the corners into that breathtaking smile I loved so much. "I would want that more than anything. I could never love anyone else like I love you. You're the light and love of my life."

My heart leapt with joy. She wanted to be with me! But it scared me to think that I could let her down again. I should protect her from herself, as well as from me. And I knew I should let Spencer go on with her life, fulfill her dreams, maybe even marry someone. I could see Spencer getting married, dressed in a white gown, walking down the aisle towards her beloved with her arm through her father's.

Though the image caused me immeasurable pain, it was the right thing to do. But I wasn't good enough to stay away from Spencer. Maybe she didn't need me, but I needed her. I was that selfish.

We finished breakfast slowly while we talked, watching the sunlight streaming in through the windows, not wanting our time together to end. I brought the dishes to the sink and Spencer stood next to me as I washed while she dried. Occasionally, I'd catch her staring at me when she thought I wasn't looking, studying me with an unreadable expression.

When we finished in the kitchen, Spencer walked me to the door. We stood at the doorway in silence. The sun had finally risen up behind the horizon, casting a pinkish-golden glow over the ground. The dewy grass dampened the soles of my boots, and the smell of pine and grass hung heavily in the air.

Suddenly, a car whooshed by, breaking the spell. The curse was broken. I wasn't a prince, and I wasn't going to whisk Spencer away to my castle so we could live happily ever after.

Spencer looked up at me hopefully. "When will you be ready to get back together?"

I loved her, so I would try to be good for her again. "I don't know yet."

A flicker of disappointment resided in Spencer's eyes.

"I'll always love you." I took her hand and placed it against my chest, over my heart. "There's no one who could ever take your place in my heart."

"I love you, too," she whispered.

I pressed my hands to her face and leveled my eyes with hers. "Nothing will stop me from being with you. I can't live without you."

"I'll wait forever if I have to," she responded, and I knew she meant it.

Out of habit, I reached out to brush a few stray hairs away from her face. And then slowly, Spencer stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. Her lips were soft and gentle, and they lingered there for a minute longer. When she pulled back, my eyes settled on hers for another moment. Spencer looked like she was about to say something else, but then turned away, heading back inside the barn. And then she was gone.

Inside my truck, I sat back against the seat for a few minutes, replaying Spencer's kiss on my cheek over and over. My mind spun and I felt buzzed, like I was drunk, even though I'd only had a few glasses of wine the night before. I touched my cheek with my fingers in awed amazement, still feeling the heat of her kiss. I must have imagined the whole thing. But then I thought of what Spencer had said and the way she looked at me, and I knew it was real.

As I drove home, I found my thoughts drifting back to Spencer. I thought about her again at night before I went to bed, and then soon after I woke the following morning.

It became clearer than ever that Spencer and I never should have broken up.

Spencer

At 7 P.M., I sat across from Emily at the glass dining table in the lounge of The Radley Hotel, the new luxurious hotel that Hanna's mother had bought and renovated from the old Radley Sanitarium. It was a day after Charles' hearing and we were waiting for Aria, Hanna and Jess to arrive so we could start celebrating the five of us being together again. Best friends, reunited at last.

The Radley had once been a hospital for depressed and insane teenagers…like me, when I'd been admitted there, after having a meltdown thinking Toby was dead. It turned out to be just a sick, twisted scheme of Mona's to make me go crazy and join the A Team. She knew the only way I would turn on my friends was if I could be with Toby. Though, after finding out Toby was only helping Mona to protect me from A, we both went undercover on the A Team to take them down. That, of course, ended in a disaster since Red Coat set fire to the Thornhill Lodge with my friends and I still inside. But just before we could burn to death, Ali had fought through the smoke and flames and pulled us out.

I took another sip of my red wine and looked around at the charming brick walls, the tile floors, and the grand stone steps leading up to the vintage wooden door. The Radley lobby was filled with crystal chandeliers and modern glass wall sconces, and tufted couches and armchairs were arranged around in the lounging area with round and elaborate plush ottomans placed in the center as coffee tables. I saw a metal art sculpture of some sort hanging on the far wall, and the interior was redone with lines of black and gold deco art wallpaper. Guests were gathered in the bar and sitting at the tables, and off to the left by the front lobby desk were the elevators, and a sign to the spa and the pool.

All traces of the Radley Sanitarium were now gone, replaced with luxury hotel suites and bathrooms, a sleek and modern lobby, and a rejuvenating spa. It felt strange to be here after all this time and it still unnerved me knowing that the basement below remained untouched from the old sanitarium, aged with history of former patients and dark secrets.

For a split second, I was reminded of my time at Radley when it was a sanitarium, where I'd been confined to sleep alone in my room, screaming at night from nightmares of finding Toby's dead body in the woods, nurses rushing in to inject me with sedatives to calm me down…

I shook the memory away. I wouldn't let myself go back to that place. I'd locked the lid on those memories years ago, and I wasn't about to relive them now. I was better. The more I told myself that I was better, the more I could believe it. But the truth was, I would never be okay without Toby.

Emily turned to me. "Are you okay with this?"

"It's a little bit strange," I admitted, snapping out of my Radley memories.

"We can go somewhere else when they get here," she offered.

"No," I said bravely, "if you are going to chase away the demons, you have to go where the demons are."

Emily paused, looking thoughtful. "You know who I thought was going to walk into that hearing room?"

"Who?"

"Sara Harvey."

"They said she wouldn't be there," I told her, but chills raced down my spine at the mention of her name.

"Or what if she did show up?" Emily asked.

"We tell our little white lies, and in she walks," I replied. "'Those bitches are lying, Your Honor. Let me show you what they did to me.' And she shows everybody."

Then my iPhone rang and Emily's phone vibrated. I reached into my Michael Kors handbag and pulled it out. A new message from Alison in a group text flashed across the screen.

Em, Han, Aria, Jessie, Spence–great news!

A sour feeling ached in my stomach as I read the text. Did this mean Charles was coming home for good?

"So that's that," I said dryly.

"The judge says Charles can go home," Emily said.

"Thanks for your help, Ali." I angrily shoved my phone back into my purse.

In that exact moment, Aria, Hanna and Jess walked in through the hotel's front doors and joined us inside the lounge. "Did you guys see?" Hanna asked Emily and I as she approached.

"We saw," Emily answered flatly.

"Everyone, say hello to the only honest women in town," Hanna said, gesturing to Aria and Jess.

Jess and Aria each exchanged guilty looks.

"I'm sorry," Aria said apologetically.

"I'm sorry, too," Jess said right after.

Emily's eyes turned empathetic. "No, we're sorry."

I looked at Aria and Jess. "You're small, but you're mighty. Put us all to shame."

"Alright, everyone turn off your phones," Hanna instructed, breaking the tension. "No silent. No vibrate. Off."

My chest tightened. Since our date last night, Toby hadn't called or left me any messages. What if he called while I was having drinks with the girls and I couldn't answer because I had my phone turned off? There was no way I was going to miss Toby's call.

"I can't turn my phone all the way off," I told her.

Hanna gave me an annoyed look. "Spencer, one of the lifesaving pieces of information I've learned is that these things actually have an off button."

"Do it, Spencer," Aria ordered.

"Okay!" I cried in surrender. I pressed my iPhone's on/off button, and watched anxiously as the screen went black.

Hanna grinned. "The coven of the sacred cocktails is now in session."

Everyone settled onto the couch and chairs of the lounge, and Hanna ordered all of us six cocktails. The bartender returned a minute later, dressed in the hotel's white button-down and black vested uniform. I grabbed a cranberry vodka from the tray, a redish-looking drink.

Hanna smiled broadly, flashing her pearly white teeth. "Bottoms up!"

I pressed the glass to my lips without hesitation and took a huge sip, letting the tart liquid slide down my throat. It burned in my chest, but I quickly took another drink.

The others finished off their drinks, too, and fifteen minutes later, Hanna flagged down a bartender and ordered another round of martinis and cocktails. I took a long swig of my vodka, and my limbs felt loose and free. The last time I'd felt this good was when Toby and I made love.

I looked at my friends drunkenly. "You know, if you didn't know what this place was, you would never know what this place was."

"Said the old real estate agent showing you around _The House on Haunted Hill_ ," Aria teased.

"I miss your faces," I blurted, my words slurring. "You guys have such excellent faces." The alcohol had definitely gone to my head.

Everyone chuckled.

"Or we should plan on seeing each other more often," Hanna chimed in.

"Yes, but not here," Aria said quickly.

Hanna closed her eyes and sighed. "Ugh, we can finally make a list of beautiful cities and go to each of them."

"And that can get expensive," Emily reminded her.

All at once, I started listing the beautiful and exotic cities I dreamed of traveling to one day. "Paris, Rome, Sweden, Rio. We can party in every one of them. And Ali and Charles can sit in that big, ugly house and they can bake cookies."

"You'd think a place like this," Hanna said, "they'd have…special drinks."

"What kind of special drinks?" Emily asked her.

"We're sitting in a bar that used to be a squirrel factory. But there's nothing like an Electro Shock Margarita."

"Manic Depressive Mai Tai?" Aria suggested.

"You think that's impressive?" Jess said. "I'm one cosmo short of seeing pink elephants."

I took another big gulp of my vodka. "You guys are seriously lacking in any good taste. That's why I love you so much. I love each one of you."

Aria turned to Emily and smiled playfully. "Spencer loves us."

Emily smiled back. "So I heard."

"Hey, uh, can we get any other bipolar martini for my friend over here?" Hanna said, gesturing to me.

I shot her an evil glare, and the others burst into laughter.

I stared out at the masses of bodies dancing to the music in the ballroom at the back of the building. There was a greedy crowd clustered by the bar, and a bartender cleared four bottles of beer from the adjacent table. My head pounded, and the room spun wildly.

When I downed the rest of the cranberry vodka, I started to feel fuzzy and my mouth was sticky. I wondered if Toby was at the site in Bucks County right now, working on the house. Maybe he'd call me when he was done. But then I remembered the reason he was building it in the first place and I swallowed another cocktail, trying to push the thought away.

I leaned in closer to Jess on the couch and squeezed her hand. Somehow, despite Charles' horrifying release from Welby and Toby's romantic gesture for another girl, I still had my friends.

Jess

I adjusted the spaghetti straps of my red cocktail dress and handed the bartender my ID for another dirty martini at The Radley hotel, the four-story building that used to be a mental institution for troubled kids. The bartender studied it and handed it back to me, saying he would put my order in at the bar.

I gave him a dazzling smile and turned back to my friends. I'd styled my hair for tonight so that it hung in loose waves over my shoulders and slipped into a pair of sexy, silver strappy heels, and the surface of my skin gleamed and sparkled from the foundation I'd applied on, as if I had brushed on diamond dust. I looked over at Spencer sitting next to me on the smoky-white couch inside the lounge. She looked surprisingly casual, but sexy in an indigo bodycon dress. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and her chocolate-brown eyes shined underneath her thick, dark eyelashes. Hanna had called me the night before, inviting me for a girls' night out at The Radley with her, Spencer, Aria, and Emily to celebrate the five of us being together again. I'd called Ali to invite her to come with us, too, but she said she was busy preparing for Charles' return home that night. I had tried to make my voice sound sincere and jubilant about the news of Charles' release from Welby.

Hanna and Emily sat on the opposite couch, tipsy from all the cosmos and Mai Tai's they'd drunk. And Aria had her feet resting comfortably against the tufted coffee table, where a tray of empty glasses sat. When the bartender returned with my drink, I took a greedy sip. The strong and salty liquid slid down my throat, making me feel warm and buzzed.

Just then, a bunch of twenty-something-year-old guys passed by, checking out Spencer's long legs, Hanna's chest, and the way my dress skimmed my thighs. I rolled my eyes.

"Last call in Rosewood," Aria announced.

Emily gazed longingly at the ballroom at the end of the building. "Can we just go someplace and dance?"

"That's why God invented the mini bar, Em," Hanna said. "We can go back to my suite. Tis but the crack of the evening."

Emily reached into her purse for a steel flask, ignoring Hanna.

"Hey, don't," Hanna scolded her. "My mom runs this joint."

"You guys wanna hear something funny?" Spencer slurred, interrupting Hanna and Emily's bantering.

"I'd love to hear something funny," Emily answered.

"I thought Toby and I would get back together. I thought we would be together forever. But no, I had to screw that up, too." Spencer tipsily shook the ice around in her Sex On the Beach drink. "And you know what's really sad? How we're not with our first loves. Me with Toby, Hanna with Caleb, Aria with Ezra, Emily with Ali."

The four of us were silent for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances with each other. It was no secret that Spencer was still in love with Toby; she hadn't been herself since they broke up. Toby was the love of her life. To lose the guy she was going to marry someday must have been devastating.

"I thought it wouldn't matter what we said to the judge," I blurted, breaking the silence. "Because I thought they would never let him out. I thought if we could lie one more time for Ali, it wouldn't matter. But they did. They let A out."

"Wouldn't it just be the biggest cosmic joke ever if Charles gets to live a happily ever after?" Aria said bitterly.

"If he can do it, so can we." Emily raised her glass. "A toast to Charles."

"To Charles," Spencer and Hanna said in unison.

Then I clinked my glass against the girls in cheers, even though celebrating Charles' freedom was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I couldn't remember a time when I had this much fun, of feeling so carefree, so I didn't notice the hotel's security camera watching us from the elevators, the little light blinking cherry-red.

Spencer

When I heard the sound of ice clinking together the next morning, I opened my eyes and looked around.

Aria and Jess were sleeping on Hanna's bed in her hotel room while Emily slept in a heap of blankets on the carpet. Hanna stood at the mini-bar, holding an ice bucket. I sat up slowly on the sofa where I'd crashed the night before, too wasted to go home and change clothes.

"Why can't they make quiet ice cubes?" Hanna said when she saw me approaching. "Here, hydrate." She handed me a water bottle.

"Thanks." I twisted off the cap and took a sip, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how thirsty I was.

"Are you going to see Toby?" she asked.

"I already did," I responded robotically. "He's building a house."

"He's building a house?" Hanna looked at me incredulously. "With tools? By himself?"

"Yup."

"Wow."

"Yeah," I said, feeling the powerful burn of jealousy return. "Wow indeed. All I got was a chair and some lucky girl is gonna get an entire house."

Before Hanna could respond, her cell phone rang in the bedroom. She quietly moved out into the room, trying not to wake the girls. Jess and Aria stirred in their sleep. Jess lifted herself up from her elbows sleepily, her bed-hair a tangled mess.

"Sit," Hanna told her. "Stay."

Jess slumped back onto the bed, almost as if obeying Hanna's orders.

Hanna dug her phone out of her bag and pressed it to her ear. "Hi, Ali," she answered.

My heart sped up. Why would Ali be calling at this hour? Wasn't Charles supposed to be at home with her?

"Hm, no he didn't," Hanna said after a minute. "What's wrong?" She frowned. "You don't know where Charles is?"

As I listened more intently, I heard Ali's anxious voice on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, you should." There was a pause. "Yeah, I will, but Ali, don't wait. Call the police." Hanna hung up.

She turned to the girls, who were now sitting up in bed and on the floor alertly. "Charles was there when they went to sleep and now he's gone."

Everyone fell silent, looking at one another with wide, scared eyes. A cold sweat prickled at the back of my neck, and a sick feeling settled in the middle of my stomach. Something felt horribly wrong.

By the time my friends and I arrived at Ali's house, Alison still hadn't heard from Charles. She'd rushed to the front door, asking if any of us had talked to him since he was released from the hospital. When we each told her no, her forehead creased with worry and she looked very pale.

Later that morning, Ali had gone into a full-on panic, calling everyone she knew if they'd seen or heard from Charles. Cop cars were parked out in front of the DiLaurentis' big, impressive Victorian home at the top of the tree-lined street, which was right next door to Spencer's old house. Jason was there, too, holding Jess and whispering words of comfort in her ear.

After the police were finished questioning us, Dr. Rollins, Charles doctor from Welby, came over to check up on Ali. The police were still looking for Charles, but there was still no sign of him. None of us knew what to say. Other than Jason, Charles was the only family that Ali had and now he was missing.

I knew Hanna, Aria, Emily, and Jess were thinking the same thing that I was–that Charles was gone–but we were all too freaked out by the eerily familiar scene: the cop cars, the panicked phone calls, the abrupt disappearance of a DiLaurentis family member without a trace.

And then I suddenly realized why it looked so familiar. This was the exact same scene as seven years ago, when Ali went missing.

Toby

I was vaguely aware that I was dreaming as the nightmare pulled me under. I was welcomed by the warm sun set against a brilliant, vast blue sky, soft white sand, and the most beautiful turquoise ocean I'd ever seen. I looked next to me, and I saw Spencer lying on the beach towel beside me and I realized where I was.

I was at the beach on one of the Hawaiian islands, the summer after everything changed. Spencer looked sexy in a navy-blue and white striped Ralph Lauren string bikini, showing off her cleavage and narrow hips. Her hair was pulled back off her face in a messy ponytail and she was resting peacefully on her back, the gorgeous sunset casting a pinkish-golden glow onto her skin.

"Spencer?" I murmured.

She opened her beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. "Toby."

I sighed happily. "I've missed you. Come back to me."

Spencer smiled. "I'm always here."

A relieved, grateful rush washed over me. In that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay. Spencer was safe and we were going to be together forever.

I snaked an arm around her waist and gently pulled her toward me. Spencer traced the line of my jaw with her fingers, sending shivers scampering down my spine. Then I winded my fingers through her hair and descended my lips onto hers.

We spent the next few minutes kissing passionately in the sand, our bodies pressed close together. I began kissing Spencer more forcefully, and rolled her over onto her back until I was on top of her, and I kissed her neck.

I brushed my lips along her eyelids softly. "I love you so much," I whispered.

"I love you, too," Spencer whispered back. She gazed into my eyes with such love and trust that I didn't have to ask to know what she was thinking.

I braced either side of her with my arms and legs, trapping her there, but giving her enough room to escape. "Do you want to…?" I asked.

"Yes," she breathed.

Spencer was as discriminating about sex as she was about everything else in her life and it was not something she took lightly, so I understood what she was giving me. But we belonged together, and Spencer made me feel safe and loved. As she wriggled out of her bikini, I pulled off my swimming trunks and our bodies connected.

When I slid my hands up her arms to entwine my fingers through hers, all I could feel was sand. I was so startled, I jerked back.

Because Spencer was no longer there.

She began fading in and out of nostalgic focus like a hologram. The shape of her body turned blurry, as if she was underwater. I tried desperately reaching for Spencer, but I couldn't feel her. I couldn't feel her warm, smooth skin, or the feeling of her soft lips moving against mine as we kissed, couldn't smell her lovely vanilla scent, couldn't feel her hand holding mine. With every second that passed, Spencer grew fuzzier and fuzzier.

Like she was disappearing.

Panic constricted my throat. "No!"

I dug my hands through the sand hastily, trying to find her, to bring her back somehow. But Spencer was already gone, finally disappearing beneath the sand. A sob broke out in my throat and tears started streaming down my face relentlessly.

"Spencer! Come back to me, please!" I begged.

My head fell into my hands and I started sobbing uncontrollably, too paralyzed with grief and loss to move. Darkness engulfed me, swallowing me whole, and I couldn't breathe. About halfway through the tunnel of darkness, I realized I didn't want to. I was nothing without Spencer.

A loud ringing filled my ears, waking me up. I shot up in bed panting, my face and bare chest slack with sweat. The horror of the dream faded away. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. I was in the bedroom of my trailer, wearing my plaid-blue pajama bottoms. The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, and I could hear the usual chirping of birds outside. It was Sunday morning, two days after my date with Spencer. On the bedside table were remnants of last night: three empty beer bottles, my _Fitzgerald_ book, and the pen I'd used to write a love letter.

Two nights ago, I'd slipped my letter for Spencer under her doormat at the Hastings' barn, writing down how I felt about her, hoping she'd read it and would come back to me. Had she ever gotten it? Why hadn't she called me?

I slowly rose from bed and walked to the kitchen, where the phone was still ringing. I picked it up on the third ring and pressed it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Cavanaugh, it's Breyer. I'm at The First Church. It's a suicide. And listen to this, we think the body might be Charles DiLaurentis. He went missing last night. The DiLaurentis girl was hysterical. You're the only one who knows that family, so I need you to identify him and collect evidence."

"How'd we get the call?" I asked him.

"It came from an anonymous caller to nine-one-one at seven this morning," he answered. "Dispatcher said it came from a residential street in town. The girl called after the body was found. She said she saw him outside of the church tower in plain sight while she was out jogging."

"Were there any witnesses?"

"None that I can tell. My guys are out here patrolling the area right now to search for any signs of DNA or a possible murder weapon. The entire Rosewood PD has been notified, but I'm going to bring in Detective Calderon to take a look. I thought maybe the two of you could work together on this one, just like old times."

"Who found the body?" I questioned.

"The sexton at the church," Breyer said. "He was coming in before the morning services for his usual grounds-keeping duties when he saw the front door had been forced open. He checked the bell tower and noticed the body below."

"I'm on my way." I hung up.

I picked up my cell phone from where I'd left it last night on top of my bedroom dresser and dialed Lorenzo's number. He picked up on the first ring. "This is Calderon."

"Hey, it's Toby," I said. "Listen, we got a call about a body at The First Church. Captain Breyer wants us to identify the body."

There was a pause on the other line. "Yeah, I just got off the phone with him. Is he sure it's Charles DiLaurentis?"

"Breyer thinks it might be, but he can't be sure without a proper ID."

I heard Lorenzo sigh. "Oh, man. Okay, I'm leaving now. And Cavanaugh, don't touch the body until I talk with the coroner."

We agreed to meet at my trailer so the two of us could drive over to the church together, and I ended the call. I took a moment to collect my thoughts, focusing on the gruesome scene that I was sure to endure soon. Samuel Breyer was wise from his years of working as a highly respected detective on the Homicide Team and the only police officer I knew who kept his job strictly professional. He'd been promoted to captain after the high-profile case with Charles DiLaurentis was solved five years ago. Unlike my boss, Lieutenant Tanner, Breyer treated me with respect and gave me a real chance in the Rosewood PD, putting me to work on murder investigations and criminal arrests. Since I'd joined the police force, I felt as though I'd become a part of something, that I made a difference to people. Though I'd originally become a policeman to protect Spencer, the girl I loved, I quickly found that I loved being a cop. With every kidnapping case and robbery, from riots to murder, gave me the chance to save lives. And it was my responsibility to use the training and skills I'd learned from the Harrisburg Police Academy to put the bad guys in jail.

But I did it because I was tired of not being able to protect the one person who mattered most to me in this world.

I quickly dressed, buttoning up my dark navy-blue uniform over a plain white T-shirt underneath, and combed back my short, but wavy brown hair. Then I reached into the cabinet above my bed and punched in the code of my safety lock box that held my gun, a 47mm pistol. It had the impact of twice its strength with only one purpose: to protect and serve. I clipped the holster to my belt and put my gun inside.

After pulling on my heavy, down-filled police jacket, I locked up the trailer. Lorenzo was already parked outside in his squad car, waiting for me. I opened the passenger side door and climbed into the front seat next to him. The morning traffic was surprisingly light as Lorenzo drove through the empty streets, and the sky was gray and cloudy, as if anticipating the mood of the day.

I glanced at my friend and former partner. Lorenzo looked like the kind of cop who worked out regularly, with his well-toned arms and chest and medium build. He had light-brown skin and dark brown eyes, prominent cheekbones, and his black-brown curly hair was cropped. He was dressed in his usual detective uniform of a blue plaid button-down shirt and tan khaki pants. A Rosewood police badge hung around his neck. At twenty-four years old, Lorenzo was the only cop on the force that was as young as I was, but still had loads of experience. He'd transferred to the Rosewood Police Department from Pittsburg while Charles' had been keeping Spencer and her friends captive in the Dollhouse before getting promoted to detective.

By the time we arrived at the church, the police were already at the scene. Lorenzo and I stepped out of the car and made our way toward the apple-green lawn, keeping a good distance away from the exposed body. It looked to be a man from the shape, maybe in his 20s. He lay crumpled below the bell tower, the victim seeming to have jumped to his death. As I neared the corpse, my stomach dropped all the way down to my feet. A large, pale human hand was curled tightly around a small bouquet of purple flowers.

Charles' skin was a ghostly, marble-veined blue, drained completely of oxygen. Both of his eyes were frozen open in terror, glassy and lifeless. Dried blood pooled from his lips and out of his ear, and his dark blonde hair was matted stiffly with more crimson-red blood. There were big purplish welts around his neck, and on his arms and chest. The fabric of Charles' shirt, jacket, and jeans were dry, but the grass underneath his body seemed wet and cold, suggesting he'd only been like this for a few hours. I carefully moved over the corpse, making sure to keep my face half a foot away, and continued to examine the horror that I had no desire to confront. My eyes fixed on what looked like a Welby State Psychiatric Hospital identification card poking out of the jeans pocket, with a picture of Charles' face in the left corner of the glossy plastic. I detected no foul play to the fatal injuries or any tracks, and found nothing helpful within the vicinity of the area. The forensics team would have to examine the body on what the weapon might have been used to commit suicide.

I blinked, struggling to comprehend what I was seeing. I thought about how Charles had been released from Welby State Hospital just yesterday. He'd disappeared only hours after being reunited with his sister, Alison. A team of cops had scoured the entire town to search for him, but quietly. No one could know that the girls' former tormenter had escaped. All hell would break loose, and news vans would undoubtedly arrive quickly at the scene.

I could only imagine what Spencer was feeling right now. I found my thoughts drifting obsessively back to her, wondering how she was taking all this, imagining the look on her face when she heard the news. All I wanted to do was go to Spencer and comfort her. To have your tormenter being released and then mysteriously end up dead twenty-four hours was beyond disturbing.

I went over to the sprinkler's panel system and carefully knelt down to check one of them embedded into the dirt beneath the grass. The timer on the water sprinkler read 7:30 A.M. in the little small clock in the center.

After finishing my survey of the sprinklers, I stood up and looked across the lawn at Lorenzo, who was talking to a man dressed in surgical scrubs and paper booties over his shoes. A paper cap was secured around his head to catch the stray gray hairs. I assumed this had to be the coroner. He said something to Lorenzo, nodded, and moved through the group of police officers. Within seconds, white-coated medics got out of a Rosewood ambulance van with the words ROSEWOOD PD MORGUE emblazoned on the side and busily zipped up the body in a black bag fitted for corpses. Cops fluttered around the area frantically. They'd put up yellow DO NOT CROSS tape all around the perimeter of the church, trying to keep people from interrupting the crime scene.

I walked back over to Lorenzo. "The sexton found him," I informed him. "He got here for morning services. He saw the door had been forced. Checked the building, went to the bell tower, and saw the open shutter and looked down."

"Do we know what time this happened?" Lorenzo asked.

"Sprinklers are on a timer, grass under the body is wet, but his clothes are dry. Puts it between three A.M. and first light."

"Are you sure about the identification?" Lorenzo put his hands on his hips and frowned deeply at Charles' body, his limbs twisted and broken, his beautiful face vacant.

"Hospital ID card, and I saw his face," I responded, "It's Charles DiLaurentis."

Lorenzo then sent a crime scene tech to take pictures of the body, and a coroner's technician huddled over Charles to collect samples of swab evidence. One of the unpleasant aspects of my job was finding people like Charles turning up dead, knowing that he was connected to someone. But I had to put aside my ill feelings and concentrate on the investigation at hand.

"We found something," I heard a woman's voice say behind me.

I turned around and saw one of the uniformed cops that had been assigned to the crime scene. It was Corie Blake, my new partner and the newest member of the Rosewood police force. She was tall and slender, with bright emerald-green eyes, had high cheekbones, and her long cornsilk blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

I nodded and followed her to the back of the church building.

Jess

Later that night, I stood outside on the DiLaurentis' front porch, gazing at the stars in the night sky, hoping they'd give me some comfort. I shivered. Despite it being September, the air was chilly. The entire block was dark. I could still hear the wailing sirens from the center of town; they hadn't stopped since they found him.

A policeman had knocked on the front door earlier that evening, with a grim look on his face when he told Ali the news. Charles was dead. An officer who worked at the church had found his body outside the bell tower, presumably when he'd killed himself. Although Charles had tormented my friends and I for years, it was horrible to think that Ali's older brother would take his own life. He was her only family. And Jason's twin brother was gone forever. But then I began to feel something else I did not expect.

Relief.

Yes, it was tragic what happened to Charles, but he was still the same monster that had kidnapped and tortured my friends and I all those years ago. Charles knew all our deepest, darkest secrets, things that nobody else did, and he used them as a weapon, wielding it until his power grew stronger. Now that he was really dead, at least the nightmare was finally over. We were safe from A.

A sickening feeling of déjà vu flooded through me, remembering seven years ago when it had been Ali who went mysteriously missing just like Charles. Someone had buried Bethany Young alive, a girl who looked exactly like Ali, while Ali had been forced to leave Rosewood by Mona and was hiding from the real A. Melissa Hastings, Spencer's prim and proper older sister, confessed to Spencer that she'd killed Bethany. But to complicate things further, it had actually been Mona, thinking it was Alison. It hurt my head just to think about. I also remembered the hot anger and vengeance I'd felt towards A-as-Mona when I found out she was the one responsible for Ali's disappearance and her murder, after what we'd all thought was Ali's body that had been dug up in the backyard of her old house. A had taken away the one person that mattered most to me and I would've done anything to take her down.

After a minute, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door inside. The foyer was dark and silent. The old, tall grandfather clock made a loud ticking noise from the living room, echoing throughout the house. The pine floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I stepped onto the soft carpet of the staircase.

I tiptoed up the stairs in the darkness, my hand sliding up the railing of the banister. I kept expecting Charles to come downstairs and shout, "Surprise!" and tell us it was all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe he sleeping peacefully in his room, maybe he wasn't really dead. Ali could still have the family she'd always wanted.

But Charles never came home, and I realized with a sinking heart that he never would.

I paused at the top of the stairs and tentatively pushed open Alison's bedroom door. Emily and Dr. Rollins were murmuring quietly by Ali's perfectly made four-poster bed, while she lay slumped underneath the covers among a dozen pillows. All her clothes had been picked up off the floor and put away neatly into a brown wicker hamper, and a clear crystal vase sitting on top of the white-wood dresser held a large, beautiful bouquet of purple lilac roses. A card that said WELCOME HOME, CHARLES was propped up against the vase. The only thing missing was Charles. On the carpet were Ali's heels, kicked off for the night. A vanity dresser mirror had photographs of the girls and I stuck to the sides. But one in particular stood out.

It was of Ali and Charles at the Welby State Psychiatric Hospital the previous August. They were sitting close together on Charles' hospital bed in the private room that Ali had requested for him, with their arms wrapped around each other. Despite the fact that he had been staying there for the last five years, the two siblings had wide grins on both of their faces, looking happier than I'd ever seen them. With his tousled blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, strong, chiseled chin, the same diamond-shaped face and kissable full pink lips, Charles looked identical to Jason. It was a wonder that people didn't confuse the twins more often. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't even know why I was crying–yes, losing a brother was devastating for Ali, but just seeing Charles' face reopened old wounds. Charles looked so startlingly like Jason.

After wiping my eyes, I gazed somberly around the silent room at Emily and Dr. Rollins, and moved over to them. Dr. Rollins was young, had kind brown eyes, high cheekbones, and he was handsomer than any doctor I'd ever seen. He was tall and lean, though the muscles in his perfectly formed chest and arms suggested he was strong, and his wavy black hair was combed back neatly from his face.

Dr. Rollins pulled the comforter over Ali, then turned to Emily and I. "Stay with her until she falls asleep."

I couldn't be sure, but he seemed a little too concerned about Ali than he needed to be, even for a doctor. I told myself he was just doing his job and being doctorly.

"We will," Emily assured him, then her eyes turned empathetic. "Are you alright?"

A tortured expression twisted his features. "If I thought there was any chance of Charles taking his own life, I...I–I would have never let him leave the hospital."

As Dr. Rollins moved to exit the room, he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You'll be fine." His eyes bored into mine, as if he could read the guilty thoughts swirling around in my head.

While Emily sat down next to Ali on her bed, I kicked off my leather ankle boots and laid back against the pillows, feeling the exhaustion seeping out of my limbs. The mattress felt soft like a cloud, and soon I felt my eyelids growing heavy.

I turned my head slightly and looked at Ali. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, fluttered as she fell in and out of sleep. There was a black stain of running mascara on her cheek, though she still looked as flawless as ever–angled cheekbones; heart-shaped face; salmon-pink, Cupid's bow-shaped lips; loopy, golden blonde hair; and huge sapphire-blue eyes.

I sighed sleepily, burrowing my face into the other side of Ali's pillow. Then the reality sunk in. _Charles will never get to come home,_ I thought. _He's dead because of me_. I squeezed my eyes shut, going over the night before when Charles had come home from the hospital. Sometime during the night, I'd heard Ali and Charles arguing downstairs about something inaudible, and then the front door slammed as though someone had stormed out of the house. I had assumed Charles was detailing his latest evil diabolical plan since his last A Game had failed and that Ali had threatened to call the cops on him. Not wanting to hear any more of it, I'd angrily shut the guest bedroom door and went back to bed with Jason, who'd already been fast asleep. But by the next morning, the cops had found his dead body and I realized my mistake.

Although Charles had been locked up in Radley for years, he'd immediately started torturing my friends and I with creepy text messages and emails, and even went so far as to trap us inside the Dollhouse for three weeks just as he had been. And while I'd drifted off to sleep in Jason's arms, I kept wishing for Charles to be gone, for this nightmare to finally be over. In my head I'd thought, _If Charles was gone, then maybe we could finally have normal lives_. It was like I'd willed this to happen.

The muscles around Ali's forehead loosened as she finally closed her eyes, and her breathing slowed. Ali unconsciously had clasped her fingers around mine, the way she always did when we slept in the same bed together. In the corner by the big bay window, Emily sat in Alison's Victorian tufted chair, sleeping beneath a fleece blanket.

I lifted my head and noticed Jason sleeping next to me and his arm was draped around me, both him and Ali curled against me like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I stared at them, trying to perfect the image to memory so I could see my best friend and my boyfriend like this forever, together and perfect.

"I'm sorry," I murmured to Ali.

Moisture filled my eyes. I was crying because I loved both her and Jason, and I couldn't imagine living without either of them. How could I have been so careless and stupid?

Memories of that frantic morning swarmed through my mind dizzily–Ali's panic, how angry I'd felt about Charles being released, the cop showing up on Ali's doorstep. But then another memory immediately flashed across my mind. It was four hours before Charles had been reported missing. I recalled seeing Ali and Dr. Rollins sitting close together on the couch in the living room, talking in hushed tones. I thought I'd vaguely heard Rollins say "relationship," and how uncharacteristically worried Ali had seemed. But when I tried asking them what was wrong, Ali and Rollins jumped apart as if they'd been caught doing something wrong and told me they were just worried about Charles.

Though I'd brushed it off at the time, something told me they were lying. Ali was a skilled fibber; she memorized every lie in full detail, twisting the story until she could believe it herself. But I knew the difference when she was lying and when she told the truth: the flawless mask she would compose onto her face, the slight twitch in her mouth, the way her blue eyes darkened.

But maybe I shouldn't have brushed off that morning so quickly. Maybe if I hadn't, we could've found Charles sooner, before it was too late. Because just four short hours later, the unthinkable happened.

Charles killed himself.

Spencer

That same night, I stood in the hotel lobby of The Radley, waiting for Caleb while he talked to Hanna upstairs in her suite. Only, he was taking an awfully long time, and I wondered if he had other reasons for seeing her tonight.

I paced by the elevators, wishing I was anywhere but here. Last night, after Charles had been found dead by the police, I'd immediately called Caleb, filling him in on what happened, and told him he should check on Hanna to see if she was okay. Sure, she was engaged to a great guy now, but I didn't think Jordan would be able to fully understand the way Caleb would, knowing who Charles was and what we all went through. When he arrived at the hotel, I told him I wanted to wait in the lobby until he was done. I didn't want to have to endure the awkwardness between Hanna and her ex, knowing that Caleb had never gotten over her.

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. For the last year and a half, Caleb remained alone in New York, moping about losing Hanna to another guy, and yelled at me for not understanding his heartbreak when I tried to console him. Hanna's passion of becoming a successful fashion designer had driven a wedge between her and Caleb, with her constant traveling to France and Japan for designer collections and touring clothing boutiques all around the world. On the night Hanna and Caleb broke up, they'd gotten into a huge fight about her leaving for yet another business trip to England. Caleb was complaining about Hanna choosing her career over him. But after sitting in the cab for twenty minutes, she had a sudden change of heart and ran back to the apartment, only to find all of Caleb's stuff gone. He never came back. Hanna had called me right after, sobbing about how she blamed herself for Caleb leaving. When I insisted that it wasn't her fault, she finally calmed down enough to speak coherently. I'd talked to her the whole night, trying my best to comfort her, and even flew out to New York the next day to see her. With a stroke of luck, she met Jordan two months later, who was sweet and caring, adored her, and supported her career above all else.

I hated that Caleb was here. I hated that I had to see him. But since he had nowhere else to go and my mother felt sorry for him, she hired Caleb to be her web designer for her campaign and moved him into the barn.

I stopped pacing and pulled out my phone, typing in a new text message to Toby:

I need to see you again. I miss you. Can you come to the funeral? I need you there. I'm absolutely terrified and I know Ali needs my support, but I don't know how I can handle going to the funeral alone.

A hot, uncomfortable feeling swelled in my stomach. Alison's brother had committed suicide. He was dead. As much as I distrusted and loathed him, I never imagined he'd actually try to hurt himself. I didn't want this for Ali, and tomorrow was Charles' funeral. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going through. If that had been Toby…

Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't want to think about what it would be like to go to the funeral without him. I needed him there with me. I needed Toby to hold my hand, to talk to me and comfort me when I would start to cry.

My iPhone vibrated, startling me. I had a new text from Toby.

I would love to come. I'll see what I can do, and I don't want you to feel scared.

My heart fluttered gleefully, stopped, and then sped up. Before I could write a reply to him, I heard someone approaching and looked up. I didn't see where he had come from, but suddenly Caleb was there, standing in front of me. Flushing, I quickly shoved my phone back into my jeans pocket.

"How was it?" I asked.

"Complicated," he said.

 _Only because you make it complicated,_ I wanted to say. "Yeah. That's why I wanted to stay down here."

Caleb met my eyes. "Thanks for calling me. I appreciate it."

"I'm really glad that you are here," I lied. Sometimes I really didn't like Caleb. He broke Hanna's heart and was always so pushy with me, but he was the only person I had right now.

He turned away, seeming uncomfortable, and looked around the hotel. "It's, uh, kinda strange what they did to this place, huh?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's like cultural amnesia."

Caleb smiled. "Yeah, well, people get do-overs, why shouldn't buildings?"

He started toward the entrance doors, but made no move to leave me. "Can I walk you home?" he asked, his gaze intense.

"Um, that's okay," I responded. "I like walking alone."

Caleb raised one eyebrow at me skeptically, looking as if he didn't believe me. "In this town? C'mon, I'll walk you home."

"No, really, I'm fine," I insisted. "But thanks anyway." Before he could try to convince me, I pushed through the double-wooden doors and walked out into the cold, night air.

When I finally stepped inside the barn that night, it was dark and dead silent. The door to Jason and Jess' room was closed, but neither of their cars were in the driveway. I'd felt uneasy walking through Rosewood's dark streets, feeling the strong, disturbing sense that someone was following me. But when I looked over my shoulder, all I could see were dark shadows from the trees.

My mind kept going back to Charles, thinking about the way he was found, and I shuddered. He was just left there to rot. I paused at the threshold, feeling as though someone was watching me. I stared into the woods that spread out in front of me. A branch snapped somewhere nearby, followed by some strange rusting in the bushes. I whirled around towards the sound, my heart pounding.

I squinted hard through the trees, straining to see, but the sky was pitch black. Then I caught movement hidden behind the cloak of some oaks a few feet away. A guy with familiar dark hair stood there motionless, just watching me. I blinked. Was that…Caleb? But when I looked for the guy's figure, he was gone. My stomach twisted with anxiety and fear prickled on the back of my neck. Clearly my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I blew out a long breath between my lips, trying to calm myself. After locking the door behind me, I tossed my keys onto the kitchen island in a haze, my feet dragging as I went to bed. I undressed slowly in my room, stripping down to my bra and a pair of light-pink, lacy cheeky panties.

I collapsed onto my bed and snuggled into the cloudlike-fluffy pillow, too tired to pull the thick comforter over me. And when my breathing began to slow, the shapes and dark shadows of the big bedroom faded away.

Tuesday morning, I stood in the high-ceilinged, stained-glass building of the Rosewood church. I smoothed my hands nervously over the fabric of my off-shoulder, black bodycon dress. Today was Charles' funeral and Alison's relatives were filtering in through the double doors, trying to find seats in the wooden pews. I hadn't expected to see so many people here. The church smelled like incense and wood. A vintage candle chandelier hung from the peaked ceiling, and the altar was adorned with purple lilac roses and a large framed portrait of Charles sat in the center. It was the same flowers Charles had in his hand when his body was found. I remembered seeing Ali putting together a bouquet of them from her front yard the day he came home.

I scanned the crowd for Toby, and my eyes fell on his familiar blue ones. Relief washed through me. He was standing in the doorway, looking devastatingly handsome in a black suit. It hadn't occurred to me until now that it made him look older.

"Spencer, over here."

I looked over and spotted Aria, Emily, Hanna, and Ali, sitting in the front row pew. Next to them were Jess and Jason. Hanna was waving me over, the diamond in her engagement ring reflecting off the stained glass window like a rainbow-colored prism.

I barely heard her, too distracted by Toby. I continued to stare at him, unable to take my eyes off him. When he walked toward me, my heart pounded.

Toby pulled me into a hug. "How are you?" he whispered in my ear.

"I've been better," I sighed. I squeezed him back, holding onto him extra tight. People streamed around the two of us as Toby held me in his arms.

As he stroked my hair, I buried my face into the crook of his neck for comfort. Toby smelled of the same delicious scent–of leather and sandalwood. Almost immediately, it brought back a flood of memories: Riding on the back of Toby's motorcycle with him, sneaking into his truck for our many steamy make out sessions, waking up next to him at his loft after spending the night with him.

I finally pulled back and I looked at him vulnerably. "Will you sit with me?"

Toby smiled at me sweetly. "Of course I will."

My whole body buzzed with delight as he took my hand in his, leading me down the aisle. We sat down in the pew between Hanna and Emily. Hanna was stunning beyond belief in a black dress, tight to her calves where it flared into a train, with a keyhole-style neckline that plunged to her chest and wore diamond stud earrings. Hanna always had to stand out, even a funeral. Emily wore a short black V-neck dress and silver heels. Aria, on the other hand, looked sophisticated in a short-sleeved, black lithe sheath dress with a sheer mesh neckline across the front of her collarbone and shoulders. Ali was striking in a black, lace A-line dress that fell above her knees, with a belt around her waist, and had on strappy black sandal-heels. At the end of the pew were Jess and Jason, their fingers entwined. Jason was flawless in a black funeral suit and black tie, and his tousled golden blonde hair was combed back. Jess was wearing a cropped black cardigan over a black lace-corset dress, and her long dark hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck with a hair clip.

The girls and Jason sat quietly for a few minutes. Hanna was twirling a gold ring on her index finger, Aria was fumbling around in her clutch, Emily was biting her lip, Jess was leaning her head against Jason's shoulder, and Ali was sitting very still, staring at Charles' open coffin.

I peered over my shoulder at the crowd. Near the door, sitting in one of the back rows was Caleb and Ezra. I saw Sasha, Payton, and Josh walking down the aisle before sliding into the pew next to them, two of Jess' close friends from home. They grew up with Jess when she lived in Ohio, and Sasha even used to visit Ali with Jess every summer in Rosewood. I hadn't seen them in years and was surprised to feel a sharp pang in my chest, realizing how much I'd missed them. I wondered if Sasha was still as sarcastic and headstrong as ever, if Josh was still the same shy, sweet boy next door, or if Payton was still guarded, yet self-righteous.

As I stared at them, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. Caleb caught my gaze and stared at me with wide eyes, and his lips twitched into a small, sinister smile. I quickly looked away.

Toby seemed to sense my discomfort and threaded his fingers through mine, sending an electric current through my body. I was filled with a sudden impulse to kiss his neck. The overpowering craving to touch him was overwhelming, and it took all the strength I had inside to fight against it. I tried telling myself it was just hormones, that this was happening because I hadn't seen him in so long, but the words sounded like a lie even to me. With Toby's thigh touching mine, I was filled with a longing for him to touch me somewhere other than my hand, to stroke up my thigh, and then reach father up…

Suddenly, the somber pipe organ began its dreary music, breaking us out of the enchantment, though Toby continued to stroke my hand. He started to play with my fingers, rubbing them lovingly in between his the way he used to. I wasn't sure whether that made me feel happy or heartbroken.

"This isn't happening," Aria murmured in disbelief.

We all turned around in our seats to see what Aria was looking at. I scanned the familiar faces of Ali's relatives, and then I saw someone walking slowly down the center aisle with an aide. It was worse than I'd feared.

 _Oh my God._

It was Sara Harvey. She was as gorgeous as ever, wearing a black mesh-striped dress similar to the one Ali wore at her mother's funeral, and her cropped, pale blonde hair was concealed by a black veil. Sara caught me staring and she narrowed her accusatory eyes at me darkly. I quickly tore my eyes away.

After the service, Jason and my friends filed out of the pew. Toby waited for me as I stood up and he took my hand again, and we walked through the heavy wooden doors that led to the church's crumbling stone steps. We left the procession and joined Aria, Hanna, Emily, and Jess, who were huddled by the front of the church. A knowing look crossed Jess' features when she saw Toby and I approach, a tiny smile splaying across her lips.

Suddenly, Toby stopped, looking as though he wanted to say something. I stopped, too, wanting to tell him, more than anything, how much I'd missed him all theses years and that I still loved him. Before I could even form the words, however, Caleb sided up next to me from the church's front steps.

"I'm going to bring the car," he told me, and rested his hand on my back, slowly moving down below my waist.

I cringed away from him slightly. The way Caleb was touching me made me very uncomfortable, and his tone was too possessive.

Toby clenched his jaw and stepped in front of me protectively. "I'll be taking her home."

Caleb's eyes flickered to mine and back to Toby's, and then his mouth tightened into a thin line. Finally, he walked away toward the back of the church to the parking lot.

I followed the girls' gazes to Sara standing at the curb, waiting for her driver to pick her up. An unsettling, anxious feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. It was clear in her twisted, sour expression that Sara still blamed us for her hand injuries.

Aria paled. "What is she doing here?" She looked like she was going to throw up.

"Making sure that Charles is really dead," Emily answered.

"Really, most sincerely dead," I added.

"Let's go," Hanna announced after a moment.

But before we could take two steps, a tall, dark-haired cop walked in front of us. It was Lorenzo Calderon, Toby's former partner in the Rosewood Police Department, who had now just recently been promoted to detective.

"Hello," he said politely.

"Lorenzo," Hanna said, sounding surprised. "How are you?"

"Alright. Under the circumstances." His expression turned serious. "I was wondering what your plans are for the next couple of days. If you're going to stay in Rosewood."

"Why?" Emily asked.

"It'd make it easier if you'd stay," Lorenzo answered.

I frowned at him. "Make what easier?"

"We have an autopsy report on Charles DiLaurentis. Charles was dead when he was thrown from the bell tower," Lorenzo said.

I peeked a glance at Toby, but he looked just as stunned. I remembered how much he'd wanted the detective job and how important it was to him. Two months after we'd broken up, Toby and I slowly fell back into a tentative friendship, though every time I heard his voice, a little piece of my heart broke. But then he told me he was thinking of applying for an open position at the police station as a detective. I'd been genuinely ecstatic for him, encouraging him to go for it. Which only made what he'd said a few days later that much worse. The detective position ended up going to Lorenzo instead, and because Tanner didn't think Toby was equipped enough at solving important cases quickly, he didn't get the promotion. Toby sounded defeated on the other end of the phone when he finally told me, but before I could try to comfort him, he'd made an excuse about needing to go to bed early and hung up.

Jess widened her eyes in shock. "Thrown?"

"The death's been ruled a homicide, yeah. You'll get a call." Then Lorenzo turned and walked away.

Once he was out of earshot, a panicked, scared expression passed over Hanna's face and I knew what she was thinking: That Sara Harvey murdered Charles. She'd known for a long time who A was before we did and had even helped him torment us, even after he'd set a bomb inside the old Radley building to kill everyone. Sara hated my friends and I for what happened to her hands. So of course she killed Charles. She wanted to ruin our lives.

I looked at Hanna. "Don't go there."

"Spencer, we've lived there for a long time," she responded. "It's not like it's a long commute."

"I wanna go home," Emily said.

Everyone looked up nervously at the towering church, where Charles had been murdered just hours before. A sickening feeling settled over me. With a sinking heart, I turned back to the girls.

"We are home," I said tonelessly.


	2. Chapter 2

2\. Love Is a Losing Game

Spencer

"What kind of music do you listen to now?"

I smiled. "Classical."

I sat next to Toby inside his truck as he drove to The Radley, asking me questions about what I'd been up to for the last three years. It'd only been half an hour since leaving Charles' funeral, but we still had a lot to catch up on. Movies and food I liked, all the places I'd been, and the many places I wanted to go–especially Paris–if I liked hiking or camping, and books. Endless questions about books. He wanted to know what I missed most about Washington and how it felt to be back home.

Toby's mouth wriggled up at the corner. "I hadn't known you to be a fan of classical music."

I shrugged. "Things change."

His face turned grave, his eyes steady on me. "Yes, they do."

I was considering his words, when Toby abruptly reached over to flip open a compartment on my side and pulled out a CD that was stuffed into the small space along with his police badge, driver's registration card, tissues, and all his insurance papers.

I examined the familiar composer's name on the CD case and frowned. It was Mozart's greatest hits. Toby's truck was ancient; the only music you could play in it was the vintage radio.

But then I recognized the cover art and my insides glowed. It was the same music we used to listen to in his truck during our intense make out sessions.

"Is this…?" I trailed off.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes shining.

"I can't believe you kept it."

"I keep things that are important to me." Toby's eyes held mine steadily, and I felt a warm, giddy rush.

Even though it had been three years, it felt strange not being in his life. He was the one who'd ended it, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. About our future, what we could've had, and how sweet and caring he was towards me when we were together. But despite all that, things seemed to be going well with Toby and I. Neither of us had mentioned the breakup, and Toby seemed happy about reconnecting.

I looked out the passenger side window. We were in front of the hotel now. Toby turned his attention back to me as he found a parking space and cut the engine.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"You know my favorite color," I responded simply.

"Still pink?"

I nodded.

"What's your favorite flower?" he fired off.

"Roses," I answered.

We sat in front of The Radley Hotel, talking for hours as the sky darkened. When he asked me what my favorite gemstone was, I'd thoughtlessly blurted out sapphire. That hadn't changed since I was sixteen, when Toby and I first started dating. It wasn't difficult, while staring into his impossibly blue eyes, to identify the reason behind my favorite gemstone.

I worried I'd revealed too much, that it had upset him. To my surprise, Toby just smiled and slowly reached out to brush my hair away from my face, seeming pleased by my answer.

It continued like that for hours, until the sun melted behind the clouds, and Toby ran out of questions for the day. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this happy, and it felt good to talk to him like this. At some point, though, I couldn't help but feel nervous that I was boring him. But Toby kept staring at me with interest, insisting on every detail of my life in D.C., and so I continued. Most of his questions were easy, but when he asked if I'd ever dated anyone back in Washington, a blush colored my cheeks a deep shade of red and I looked away.

"You can tell me," he said gently.

I shook my head, feeling too guilty to confide in him about my one-time fling with Chad Chambers, which had ultimately been a stupid, reckless mistake from my heartbreak with Toby.

"Please." Toby leveled his eyes with mine, using the power of his electric blue eyes that seemed to see right through me, trying to persuade me.

I sighed, surrendering. "I kind of dated this guy, Chad. He's the ambassador's son in Washington. But it didn't last long."

"What happened?" he asked.

"We just wanted different things," I answered honestly.

I looked out the window at the tall, stately building of The Radley, suddenly remembering my friends waiting for me inside. It was easy to forget the rest of the world when I was with Toby. I glanced at the little clock on the dashboard and gasped softly. Seven-thirty. "Is that the time?"

He looked surprised by how late it was. "Yeah. Do you need to go?"

"Yes. My friends are waiting for me."

As I unwillingly reached for the truck's door handle to get out, Toby gently touched my arm. "Spencer?"

I turned. He was leaning towards me now, his face only inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"I just need to know that you're okay," he said.

Toby looked so concerned that it turned my insides to goo.

My lips curved into a smile. "I'm okay." I was always okay when he was here.

His eyes lingered on my lips. "Good."

I paused. "I'm really glad that you're here." And this time when I said it, I actually meant it.

"Me, too." Toby smiled back at me. "Sleep tight tonight."

I felt my heart melt from his words. He was so sweet.

I smiled at him playfully. "Just so you know, tomorrow is my turn."

He frowned. "Your turn for what?"

"To ask the questions."

Then I stepped out of the truck and closed the door behind me. He waited until I was at the grand front doors of the hotel before pulling away, giving me a little wave as he drove down the street and disappeared around the corner. I waved back, feeling the burn of his absence. Being apart from him was even more painful now than it had been when I was living in D.C.

I smiled dumbly as I walked into the lobby, oblivious to the people moving past me to get to the bar. Toby wanted to see me tomorrow.

I finally spotted my friends in the lobby, sitting close together on the tufted couch. From the windows, I could see the pitch-dark sky outside and the glass dining tables were vacant. All the guests were sitting at the bar, drinking and laughing loudly. It was as if everyone was celebrating Charles' death in the wake of his funeral.

Hanna looked irritated as I approached. "Spencer, you're over an hour late. Where were you?"

"I, uh–I was with Toby," I stammered. "He dropped me off." I sat next to Emily on the couch. "So what is everyone talking about?"

"Charles," Jess responded dryly. "What else?"

"At least the nightmare is finally over," Emily said.

Hanna fiddled with her engagement ring. "And now A is out of our lives for good."

Aria looked at Hanna. "What did you tell Jordan?"

Hanna knitted her eyebrows together. "Tell him what?"

"This town, Charles, everything we went through."

"She means the things she can't Google," I translated.

"When I knew I was falling in love with him," Hanna answered.

"Hmm," Aria mused, "Liam and I aren't there yet, but…I know he's gonna have a lot of questions when I get back."

A miserable feeling swelled in my stomach. Normally I went to Toby whenever bad things like this happened, but we hadn't been that happy in a long time and I wondered if we ever would be. I bit down on my lip so hard that I drew blood, trying to compose myself so nobody could see me cry. Hearing Hanna and Aria talk about their love lives was more excruciating than I'd anticipated. And it was depressing to think that Toby and I weren't that close anymore. He was no longer my boyfriend and we weren't engaged. But I didn't want to talk about boyfriends; I wanted to think of how I was going to get my true love back.

"Are you sure you should leave tonight?" Emily asked Aria. "You know the cops wanna talk to us before we go."

"Yeah, I've already missed a few days of work," she replied. Right after we left the funeral, Aria told everyone she was flying back to Boston, saying her boss wanted her to return to work ASAP. But given the timing, I couldn't help but feel a little suspicious.

"We all have, Aria," Hanna pointed out. "We're staying."

"The buyers for my art collection are still upset I'm pushing back the date for the New York Art Series," Jess added.

"Okay, well, my boss asked me to come back," Aria said. "You guys, this wasn't an easy job to get. I can't lose it."

I drew my eyes down, understanding.

"They're gonna ask us questions about that night," Hanna went on.

Aria's expression remained eerily calm. "Yeah, we were all together and none of us left the hotel. What else is there to say?"

Just then, I saw a shock of blonde hair from the corner of my eye and I turned, noticing Sara standing at the check-out desk with her aide. She still had on her black funeral dress and dark red coat, and she wore a pair of black leather gloves to hide her burn scars.

"I think the person the cops should really be talking to is right over there." I nodded at Sara.

Everyone turned to where Sara was standing and cringed. The receptionist from behind the front desk said something to her, and Sara's aide jotted down her name in the guest book.

"Can she really not sign her own name?" I asked in disbelief.

Emily looked at Hanna. "I still haven't told anyone about what happened, have you?"

Hanna shook her head no.

"Do we really believe she doesn't remember?" Aria asked skeptically.

"I think she's lying," Hanna said. "Just like she lied about having Swedish Syndrome to get her sentence reduced."

"Stockholm Syndrome," I corrected. "And it is a real thing."

"She lied about being trapped inside the Dollhouse," Jess pointed out.

"She was never kidnapped, Spencer," Hanna said right after. "She was living out in the world. She chose to help Charles torture us."

"You know, the judge didn't see it that way," Aria told her.

"If Sara really was brainwashed she'd have a pretty strong motive to kill Charles," I said. "Revenge."

A long pause fell over the room, and Aria glanced down at her phone, her eyes widening. "Oh, I hate to break up this party, but I gotta get going." She rose from the couch.

I stood up. "I'll walk you to your car."

Aria looked at the other girls and I. "Okay, bye. I'll call you soon."

"Okay."

Jess leaned in to hug her. "Have a safe flight."

After Aria finished hugging everyone goodbye, she headed toward the hotel's front doors and I followed her. Before we could take two more steps, Aria got stopped by Hanna. There was a serious look on her face. Aria motioned for me to go ahead without her.

I nodded, despite my confusion, and pushed through the doors. Outside, the cold air bit at my cheeks. I gazed at the empty streets, watching as the cars whizzed by. Cafés and French bakeries stood clustered together on the next block over. Suddenly, I saw the most beautiful girl I had ever seen through the window of a restaurant called Brio, an Italian fusion restaurant. She exuded confidence and radiance with long, silky dark-brown hair that spilled over her shoulders, flawless and light mocha-colored skin, and a size-two body frame. Her white long-sleeved Marc Jacobs dress fit her body snugly, revealing every curve and how full her prominent chest was.

The girl's lips were pulled up at the corners into a dazzling smile, as if she was laughing at the funniest joke she'd ever heard. Sitting across the table from her was a tall, good-looking guy with strong cheekbones and dark-brown hair. And that wasn't the only thing that looked familiar about him.

There was a dimple in his chin, and when the guy's cheek lifted slightly as he smiled back at the girl, I caught a glimpse of his shining, deep blue eyes. _Toby_.

My heart plummeted all the way down to my feet. I stood there on the sidewalk, my legs growing hollow and weak, and the whole world around me spun. Toby was out on a date with another girl. And he'd probably walk her home and she'd invite him inside to do who knows what else. My stomach lurched into a nauseating pain as I imagined the two of them together.

Suddenly, a violent, burning hatred surged through me. I suddenly hated that mystery girl. I hated her for taking Toby away from me. My hands clenched into tight fists, my body slowly filling with unreasonable anger. I had to do something before I lost him.

When Aria walked down the front steps a minute later, her expression was furious, her hazel eyes livid.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

Aria turned to me, as if just noticing I was there. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just have to catch my flight."

I looked at her, not sure if I believed her. Immediately, Aria stepped toward me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She was so tiny, I had to lean in to return her hug. My first thought was to say something meaningful, like I'd done a million times before when we'd bid goodbye, but right away I sensed something was wrong. Like she was hiding something. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe Aria's strange behavior was related to Charles' murder. Maybe she had other motives for rushing back to Boston so soon.

Then Aria pulled me in close, her short, dark strands falling across my face, the comfort of her scent making all my worries disappear. Maybe we were all grown up now, but she was still my best friend.

"I better get going," Aria finally said, pulling away.

"Call me when you land," I told her.

"I will," she said. She walked over to her car that was parked on the street, climbed in, and sped off into the night.

I watched her drive away, trying to ignore the suspicious, nagging feeling about my friend in the back of my mind.

An hour later, I walked into my parents' house to find my mother and Caleb leaning over a silver Mac laptop on the kitchen island. Caleb was typing furiously on the computer while Ms. Hastings stood behind him, her eyebrows knitted together in a deep V. Jess sat at the end of the island, frowning at her own laptop and cell phone in front of her. My mom had offered Jess a position on the campaign team as the poster designer a week before the campaign took off, worried that Christine Phillips would snatch her up first. Jess' artistic ability surpassed all the other artists in the state, and therefore was perfect for attracting more voters.

"Mom, Caleb just got here," I said. "Already you're putting him to work? What's wrong?"

Ms. Hastings looked up. "The news of Charles' death is spreading fast."

"Some bloggers are trying to link you and the girls to it," Caleb added.

I sighed. "Why am I not surprised?" Only Rosewood would exaggerate something as the death of the most hated guy in Rosewood, Charles DiLaurentis.

"I am," Veronica responded. "It's a disgusting thing to do. My opponent is running a dirty campaign."

"Well, how do you know that she'd behind this?" I asked.

"I'm trying to figure out where it's coming from," Caleb answered.

Jess looked up from her computer smugly. "I traced the user's location from the blog. It's coming somewhere from Rosewood." Jess and Caleb were both computer geniuses, and they were constantly competing against one another about who was better.

My mouth twitched. If my mom went through with this, the media would make a spectacle of my dark past with Rosewood.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "It's already out there. And it would be a mistake for me to go with you to your interview tomorrow."

A reporter from the _Rosewood Observer_ newspaper was scheduled to interview my mom tomorrow on live TV, along with a big photo shoot. They wanted to do a full story about her campaign and the promises she was planning to make if she was elected State Senator. A stylist would be bringing a rack of designer clothes to the Philadelphia studio, and a hairdresser was going to style her hair and apply makeup to make her look refined and put-together.

My mother frowned. "Why?"

"Because I would just be a distraction," I explained.

Her eyes softened. "Honey, the _Rosewood Observer_ has more class than to pay attention to a few tasteless tweets."

"Mom, I'm partially responsible for Charles getting out. On the night that he did, he was killed. So whichever way they spin it, his death and my association with it will come up and it's best if I'm not with you when it does."

I looked at Caleb, who was still busily working on the Hastings campaign website. At the funeral, after he had tried to grope me, Toby offered to drive me home instead, rebuffing Caleb's advances. I'd been trying to avoid Caleb ever since, but that was impossible with him living in my mother's barn. And I had nowhere else to go until the election was over. Fortunately, Jess was also staying in the barn. As long as I had her, I would be okay.

"Hey, I found a link to a blog that originated in Rosewood," Caleb announced. "It's been shared over four-hundred times."

My mother turned back to me. "Maybe it is best if you skipped this one."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I'll call my team and see if they can get a handle on this."

I nodded. "Okay."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Frowning, I moved towards the double-paneled doors and opened it.

"Hey," Toby whispered. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, of course not." I stepped aside as he crossed the threshold. Toby was still wearing his long-sleeved navy blue shirt and dark khaki pants that he'd changed into for his date. His hair was messy and sexy, and a couple buttons of his shirt were undone. My breath caught in my throat just looking at him, and I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat.

Toby held up my black chic tote purse and handed it to me. "You left this in the truck."

I let out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank you. I completely forgot."

He glanced at my mom, Caleb, and Jess, suddenly aware that there were other people in the room with us. Veronica saw Toby and smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Toby. It's nice to see you again."

"Hi, Ms. Hastings," he answered politely, and smiled back.

"Will you be staying?" she asked.

"No, I just needed to talk to Spencer," he said.

Caleb narrowed his eyes at Toby suspiciously, making my stomach clench.

"Alright, well I'll let you two catch up," Ms. Hastings said, giving me a meaningful look. She winked at me, and I blushed.

After she left the room, Toby moved closer to me, keeping his eyes on my face, and all my fears and anxiety about the mystery girl melted away. "I wanted to ask you something."

I beamed. "What is it?"

"Well, I was wondering if you would meet me tomorrow at the house. I need some help cutting the wood and you're the only person I know who isn't afraid to use a power saw." He grinned at me, his eyes teasing.

I realized he was talking about the house he was building, so I nodded. "Of course," I answered automatically. I would have parked at junkyard with Toby if it meant I could be alone with him.

Toby smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Then he turned for the door and headed back out into the darkness outside. When he was gone, I walked over to Caleb and Jess at the table, but kept my distance, trying not to expose my bare back. I suddenly felt so self-conscious in my strapless black funeral dress and my exposed long legs.

"I am really afraid that she's gonna lose the election because of me," I stressed.

Caleb met my eyes. "Hey, don't say that. I'll hack into the voting machines and make sure that she wins."

"Caleb!" I cried, appalled.

His eyes flickered with amusement. "I'm kidding."

He started laughing, and I couldn't help laughing, too.

Caleb's face became more serious. "Look, they have four-hundred retweets. I will get 4,000 good ones by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. I looked at him, saw the genuine kindness and sympathy in his expression, and the edges around my heart began to thaw. Caleb could actually be kind of nice sometimes.

"Yeah." Caleb's eyes moved over my chest and hips appreciatively. I felt my cheeks grow hot, too stunned to say anything.

Caleb reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped away from him. I didn't want to be standing so close to him, talking to him and pretending everything was okay.

"Yes, we should all be proud," Jess said dryly, breaking the ice. "Maybe you can use your hacking skills to spy on Yvonne and get all the dirty details. Worked last time, didn't it?" She arched an eyebrow at him, indicating Caleb's past discretion with Toby's controlling step-sister, Jenna Marshall, when he'd used Hanna to find a flash drive for her. Ever since Jess found out the truth about Caleb, things hadn't been too warm and fuzzy between them.

In 11th grade, Jenna had given Caleb cash to spy on Hanna and the rest of us so she could get her hands on a flash drive that only Alison knew about. The night that we'd accidently blinded Jenna, Ali went to the Cavanaugh's shed and lit the firework, just before she saw Toby and Jenna inside. When Toby confronted Ali, she had threatened to expose his secret if he didn't keep quiet about Jenna's accident, not knowing what was really happening. By the next school year, Toby's parents sent him to a reform school in Maine. But in the months that followed, Ali came upon a flash drive containing one of the . Club's videos of Jenna _touching_ Toby–the same flash drive that Jenna had hired Caleb to find. It made me shudder just to think about.

"What is your problem with me?" Caleb demanded.

"I don't work with people that I don't trust," Jess snapped.

"I never thought of you as being a team player," he shot back.

Jess glared at him. "Right, because you're such a shining example of that."

"Maybe if you hadn't been hiding money for Ali when she was running from A and hitching bus rides for her, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Bite me," she retorted. She drew the words out slowly to give to full effect of her venom.

My head started to ache from Jess and Caleb's Ping-Pong bickering. "Um, I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Jess looked up at me and smiled. "Night."

Caleb, on the other hand, went back to his computer, ignoring me completely.

I sighed and moved down the hall. My bedroom was the first door on the left. Past the bathroom on the opposite side of my room was Jess and Jason's bedroom. The door was open and the lights were switched off, and I could see Jason's sleeping form inside. I felt a sense of security knowing he was close by.

Feeling dazed, I walked inside my bedroom and shut the door behind me, making sure to lock it this time, and changed out of my dress into Toby's long-sleeved, grey anchor shirt that he'd given to me when we were dating, and a pair of pastel-blue cheeky panties. Purple satin curtains framed the big bay window that looked out into my mother's garden. I yanked the curtains closed and double-checked the lock on the window, feeling paranoid that someone was watching me last night.

I looked around the room. Since I'd renovated the barn seven years ago, it had lost its dusty and mossy smell, and the floorboards no longer creaked when you walked. The white-wooden vanity table was pushed against the wall, and the thonet bentwood rocking chair–which Toby had made for me from his own hands–sat by the window. An oak dresser faced the bed on the south side of the room. I'd styled the bedroom to my taste, not knowing Melissa would steal it five seconds after I had redecorated it.

Four small, artistic black-and-white framed photographs lined the wall over my bed and the painting that Toby had painted of the two of us still hung on the left wall. We were snuggled together in bed of my old room and the covers fell to our middle stomachs, and the light blue-grey comforter hid my face. I was lying on my right side with Toby's arm draped around me from behind, holding me as we slept. Toby had done the painting in contrasts of dark and light, emphasizing my pale skin and brown hair. I touched Toby's face in the picture, tracing my fingers over his strong cheekbones and dark wavy hair, and closed my eyes. I'd put the painting up in the barn when Toby had first given it to me during my first year of college, a memento of our relationship. We had plans of living in the barn until Toby could find a place in Rosewood to build our dream house. Those dreams seemed so far away now.

Feeling my chest aching, I decided it was time to turn in for the night. I crawled into bed and pulled the comforter up to my chin, adding another pillow for comfort. When I did eventually fall asleep, I dreamt of nothing but Toby, trying to keep my dreams of him and true love stay alive for a little bit longer.

In my dream, I was lying in a very white room on a queen-size bed, surrounded by several fluffy, cloud-like pillows. I was naked except for a tiny, black lacy thong that rested precariously below my hips. Toby hovered over me, his blue eyes filling heavily with desire. My heart pounded.

"I want you so much," I whispered. I entwined my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me.

Toby pressed his mouth against mine in response, our bodies melting together. He stroked his hand along my hip, gliding it up in between my bare breasts.

His lips brushed against my ear. "Tell me when I should stop."

I stared into his eyes. "Don't ever stop."

He dipped his head down and kissed my neck with passionate lips in response, moving lower and lower. My fingers fumbled at the buttons on his jeans, tugging them off. Heat flooded my pelvis. Toby released a deep, guttural moan as I slid my hands up his bare, muscular chest, feeling the strength there. Aroused, he hooked his finger underneath the string band of my thong and slowly peeled it off, easing them over my hips and legs. My lips parted in a throaty moan.

Toby roamed his eyes over my naked body lustfully. "Oh, Spencer," he moaned. "You're so perfect."

In the next instant, he lifted up my foot and started trailing kisses there, moving up my leg to my thigh. My lower belly coiled with need, and my breaths came out in heavy pants. When he reached further north, he bent back my knee and parted his lips over my inner thigh, sucking deeply. I couldn't control the wetness that quivered rapidly inside of me.

And then I felt him in there, pushing his tongue gently, but deeply inside me. I wrapped my legs tightly around Toby's head, urging him on. Waves of pleasure cascaded through my entire body, and I could feel the sweat gathering at my navel and lower back.

I parted my legs wide for him, allowing him to taste me. Toby swirled his tongue around inside, stroking every surface smoothly. I whimpered. He sucked on my hips next, licking along my lower navel. He kissed every inch of my skin, bringing my body back to life.

I reached underneath the fabric of his boxers and eased them off. Toby groaned and our limbs entangled around each other, kissing deeply. I tangled my hands through his hair wildly as our lips continued to make hot, wet smacking and slurping sounds. Muscles rippled along his muscular back as he struggled to restrain himself on top of me.

"Don't hold back," I whispered.

Toby pulled back slightly to look at me, gazing deeply into my eyes. "I love you," he breathed.

I stroked his cheeks tenderly, keeping my face close to his. "I love you, too," I whispered back, and molded my lips back to his.

Toby pressed his body against mine, and he was inside me. I squeezed my naked legs around his hips and clung onto him as he thrusted hard and swiftly against me.

We were going so hard and fast that the bed started squeaking and shaking with our movements. I moaned loudly. "Oh, God!"

Toby rubbed me against the mattress, keeping his arm around my lower waist gently so he wouldn't hurt me. I kissed his shoulder, stroking his hair while he sucked on my neck amidst wild gasps.

As I reached my climax, I dug my nails hard into his back and screamed out his name with pleasure. I felt him harden inside me, giving into my orgasm, and I pushed back into his erection. Toby groaned. I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt this pleasured and wanted in my entire life.

If this was what sinning felt like, I didn't ever want to go to Heaven.

We came back up again, our lips parting closely in wild gasps. I smashed my lips back to his hotly and twisted my legs around the middle of his back. The taste of him sent my blood on fire. I moaned, clutched his butt in my hands, and our limbs connected, going on and on…

My eyes snapped open. I sat up slowly in bed, clutching the sheets to myself, waiting for my racing heartbeat to slow. I was panting hard, hot and sweaty from my erotic dream. It felt like my whole body was buzzing.

I looked around me. I was in my bedroom, still wearing Toby's shirt and my underwear from the night before. Sunlight filtered in through the window, and the pale pinkish-purple sky outside cast a golden glow onto the soft carpeted floor. Only, Toby wasn't lying next to me. It was just a dream. It had felt so real.

I gasped aloud now, gripped with the harsh reality. The dream wasn't real. It was all part of my imagination. To my bewilderment, tears prickled at my eyes and slid down my cheeks. I couldn't get ahold of the overpowering grief that consumed me, sending my heart crashing into my chest. I wanted so badly for the dream to be real.

I put my face in my hands, my voice breaking into a torrent of sobs. Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated on my nightstand and I picked it up. Toby's picture appeared on the screen.

I slid my finger across the touchscreen to unlock the phone and pressed it to my ear. "Hey," I mumbled sleepily.

"Hey, you." Toby paused. "Did I wake you?"

"Not at all," I answered. "I just woke up. What's up?"

"I got the supplies for the wiring and I thought we could start working on the house now." He sounded cheerful on the other end.

I smiled. "Sounds good. I'll get ready and meet you there."

I hung up, got up from bed, and padded out into the hall to take a quick shower. I scrubbed my vanilla-scented shampoo into my hair and rinsed my body. The hot water against my skin calmed my nerves, loosening the tense muscles in my lower belly. I raised my face up to the steaming spray of the shower, trying not to think of Toby and the blissful dream I had of him.

I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel. Then I changed into a pair of black jeans that hung low on my hips and a sheer-white blouse, undoing the first few buttons on the front, and rushed out the door, not even bothering to acknowledge Jess or Caleb on my way out.

I quickly drove to Toby's, passing the Rosewood Mall, Leon's Cupcakes, the supermarket, and the Apple Rose Grille. The morning sky was clear and sunny today, making the colorful autumn leaves of the trees look cheerful and lively. Everything was green here: acres of family-run farms filled with rich green grass, the tree trunks covered with moss, their branches twisting with long vines of ivy.

I took a right turn, rolling onto the bumpy dirt path. I drove through the twisting, winding pathway leading to Toby's trailer. Finally, I pulled up onto another dirt road and drove through the familiar break in the trees. The single-wide, grey metal trailer loomed ahead of me. It was plain and modest, yet clean and well-kept, and a tarp was strung up between some trees, which I imagined that Toby used to do push-ups on the branches. I parked underneath the weeping willow tree just like I did a couple days ago, stepped out, and made my way towards the tall, four-sided structural frames of the construction site.

Toby stood a few feet away in a white T-shirt and a pair of blue-gray jeans that hung low on his hips, chopping up some wood on a tree stump. His brown, laced-up steel toe boots were smudged with dirt and his brown hair was a mess around his face, but I couldn't remember him looking sexier.

He looked up, suddenly noticing my presence, and smiled widely. "Hey, you made it."

"Yeah." _Take off your clothes, please_. Delightful shivers slithered down my back and arms.

I wanted to put my hands on him, to touch the strength of his chest and abs, to feel the irresistible heat that would burn between us.

Toby set the axe down in the center of the stump and walked over to me. When he wrapped his arms around me, I could feel his sweat dampening my blouse and I had to control the quivering in my legs.

Toby pressed his nose into my neck. "Mmm, I missed you."

I giggled, holding onto him. "You saw me last night."

"Too long," he sighed.

I closed my eyes and buried my face into his chest, wishing the moment would last longer. When we finally pulled away from each other, Toby lingered his hands at my hips, slowly moving to the buttons on my jeans. My heart pounded. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

He stared longingly into my eyes and then reached out his hand to stroke my cheek in small, gentle circles. I kept my eyes down, not trusting myself to be this close to him.

"So where do we start?" I heard myself ask.

Toby's hand fell away from my face, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He gestured toward the stacks of plywood by the house. "I thought we could start by cutting wood for the wall frames first. You saw, I'll axe."

I grinned. "Deal."

Once Toby had everything laid out on top of the worktable next to his toolbox, he showed me the length of measurements that the wall frames needed to be for the house and then handed me a power saw. We went right to work, sawing and axing at the planks of wood while we talked and laughed. I watched Toby's hands, mesmerized by the skillful way he performed the simple tasks with such ease and precision. When he nailed a door frame together with a hammer, his face looked calm and relaxed. Building things seemed to soothe him.

Then I remembered who he was building the house for, making a familiar and numb, dull ache slowly spread throughout my chest, ripping the hole wide open. The girl I'd seen Toby with last night came into clear, anguishing focus, and the gash around the edges of the hole deepened. She was a more beautiful, perfect version of me. Toby had finally found someone who he could spend the rest of his life with. I moved my eyes along the edge of the forest that surrounded us, trying to distract myself from the pain.

As I cut the wood, Toby got started on nailing together the first wall frame, the sunlight gleaming through the soft waves of his brown hair. He stopped to pull his shirt over his head, and I could see the hem of his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs peeking out from underneath his jeans. My lips fell open and suddenly I couldn't feel my legs.

 _Oh, boy. I'm in trouble_.

The muscles of his body, hard as iron, dripped with sweat, lodging along his chest and muscular abs. Thousands of butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. I couldn't look away from Toby's bulging biceps, his flexing arms as he worked, or the maze of carved muscle that reached his sternum all the way down to his abdomen. He looked even better than I remembered.

After a minute, Toby set down his axe into the tree stump again and reached down to unzip his camping bag, pulling out a slender stainless steel thermos and two small tin cups. "Do you want some coffee? I made it just how you like it."

I smiled, touched that he still remembered such small details about me. "I'd love some."

Toby poured the dark liquid from the thermos into the cup and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said. His fingers brushed over mine as I took the cup and a jolt of electricity charged through us like a battery, shocking me awake.

I tore my eyes away from him, drinking my coffee instead. It was incredibly strong and delicious. "Do you still go camping with Caleb?"

Toby shrugged. "Only occasionally." He took out a red plaid picnic blanket from his bag and spread it over the ground before sitting down. I sat beside him tentatively, wondering where this was all going.

"Must be nice," I said. "To be out in the wilderness alone, without any noises or distractions. I wish I had that."

His eyes bored into mine. "I could take you sometime."

I lifted my face up to his, feeling delicious warmth swirling through my body. "I don't know," I heard myself say. "I have to be here with my mom for her campaign."

Toby leaned in closer to me, making my heart speed up. "Say yes."

I returned his steady gaze. "Okay."

Wordlessly, Toby pressed his lips against my forehead and I closed my eyes. I shifted away from him slightly as the fresh aroma of coffee filled my nose. I lifted the cup to my lips and took a large gulp of my espresso.

Toby touched his lips to the edge of his own cup and took a sip, trying to hide his smirk.

I examined his face. "What?"

"You're the only person I know who can drink four cups of coffee every day."

I glared at him, resisting the urge to smack him. "I don't drink that much coffee."

Toby snorted. "Sure."

I paused. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted you to see what I was working on," he answered. "This is where we were supposed to start a family."

It felt like Toby had punched me in the chest. How long was I going to keep being reminded of my horrible mistake? Maybe he would never forgive me. Maybe some wounds cut too deep. And I'd hurt him so badly. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to give me a second chance.

"It sure is beautiful." I gazed up sadly at the tall, wooden-structured house. It made me feel even more regretful of letting him go all those years ago and not supporting him or his job, including his passion for carpentry. I'd gotten so lost when I was in college that I forgot what I did have, and had inadvertently driven Toby away, too.

"It's not finished," he said quietly.

I peeked a look at him. "So are you ever going to tell me who this mystery girl is?"

Toby frowned. "What girl?"

"The one you're building the house for," I hinted playfully, but my heart was aching.

An elusive smile played on Toby's lips. "The house isn't for a person. It's more like an idea. An unattainable idea." His mouth suddenly turned grim.

"You know, most people don't build houses by themselves," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not most people." When he looked at me, his somber expression lightened and those beautiful blue eyes of his sparkled.

I felt myself sparkling back at him. "I figured that out from day one."

It was true. Toby wasn't like any of the other guys I'd dated. And he was so different from anyone I had ever met.

Just then, a light breeze ruffled Toby's hair and he tilted his face up to the vast blue sky overhead, the sunlight shining in his hair. I studied his features, wanting more than anything to trace the shape of his full lips with my fingertips, to feel them part beneath my touch. I could still hear his words from my dream ringing in my ears. _I love you_.

Was he still in love with me? Did I want him to be?

"You should stay away from me," he murmured bleakly.

Agony punctured my entire body at his words in a helpless despair. Was this because the house reminded him too much of the future we were supposed to have together? Or was he just scared that I would push him away again, like before? I considered for a moment what Toby was saying and what it meant. I could try to do the right thing and stay away from him to ensure neither of us got hurt. To stop seeing Toby, to ignore him and lock away my feelings for him. To tell him to leave me alone–and mean it. But I could never lose my feelings for Toby–I was too in love with him. To never be with him would be like cutting off all my oxygen.

"And what if I don't want to?" I challenged evenly.

"I'm not good for you, Spencer."

His words cut me. "I don't care," I insisted. "It's too late."

"This is wrong." Toby looked at me with a pained expression and it seemed like he was struggling with some sort of dilemma.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you."

A sob caught in my throat. I gazed at the soft waves of his hair, the sweet smile that seemed to always be present on his lips whenever he was near me. How could I not be in love with this man?

"Then don't," I whispered.

Toby brushed his fingers along my cheekbone, seeming to lose himself in my eyes. I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning my cheek into the palm of his hand. I'd missed the way he touched me.

He plucked a small purple wildflower from the ground and tucked it behind my ear. "For you. Always my girl." His blue eyes darkened with emotion as they bored into mine.

I flushed. His eyes stayed on my face even as I looked away and hugged my knees to my chest. The early morning sun peeked out from beneath the moving clouds overhead, casting a golden-yellow glow along a large patch of green grass nearby.

Toby put a finger underneath my chin and turned my face towards him, forcing me to look at him. "What's wrong?"

He caressed my cheek softly, turning my insides to goo. "Nothing," I breathed. "Everything is perfect."

Toby leaned back on the blanket, stretching out on the ground. He was still shirtless, the sweat bulging deliciously in the muscles of his taut stomach. When my wandering eyes met his, he extended an arm out towards me, gesturing for me to lie down with him.

I snuggled against his chest and sighed. "It should always be like this."

Toby brushed his lips against my hair and breathed it in. "I've missed your smell." He ran his hand up and down my arm gently.

My heart thrummed with happiness. I felt so safe and relaxed that I found my eyelids starting to grow heavy, until finally I drifted off to sleep in Toby's arms.

Jess

Wednesday morning, I watched the sun rise up from behind the clouds and paint the sky a pinkish-pale orange from the windshield of my car. My mom had called me this morning to invite me over for breakfast, saying she had some exciting news to tell me. I hated surprises, so I could only imagine what this big news was. Aliens were most likely taking over the earth, or Rosewood was going to implode. Either way, whatever my mom was about to tell me couldn't be good. Our family had the worst track record of any good anything.

I stepped out of my red Honda Civic and walked along the stone-paved pathway leading up to the front steps of my mother's new house. The light grey stone brick craftsman-style mansion in Philadelphia, two towns away from Rosewood, stood before me. The long, T-shaped house was two stories high, had six bedrooms, with some maple trees bordering the edge, one of which had a swing tethered to the limb by a sturdy-looking rope in the spacious front yard. White columns supported the front porch, a built-in gazebo sat at the end of the property to the left, and rows of flowerbeds and shrubs surrounded all sides of the house. For such a massive and luxurious home, it seemed a little extreme for just two people–my mom and my biological father, Gabe. Then again, it was fitting for a detective at the head of the Philadelphia State Police Department and his wife.

When I rang the doorbell, my mom flung the door open immediately. She was dressed in a silk purple blouse, a black pencil skirt that showed off her long, slender, olive-toned legs, and kitten-toed heels. Her skin glowed radiantly and she seemed to have put on a little weight, but I couldn't be sure.

"Jess!" my mother cried. "You're here." She wrapped me into a hug, holding me tight.

I squeezed her back, seeking comfort in her warm embrace. "Yeah, I'm back."

My mom grinned. "This last year has been crazy. A lot's happened."

"I know," I said. "I have so much to tell you."

She took my hand, leading me into the house. "Tell me all about it."

Inside, the grand hallway yawned in front of me, which was adorned with silver-framed photographs of Gabe and my mother's wedding four summers ago. My eyes fell on a picture of myself dressed in a shell-pink strapless bridesmaid gown standing next to my mother who wore a beautiful, trumpet-mermaid V-neck satin dress that clinched at the waist with embroidered crystals and a fit and flare ruffled train. Another picture showed Gabe and my mom standing at the alter together when they made their wedding vows. It had been the fairytale wedding.

My father, Gabe, was sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of scrambled eggs and toasted bread in front of him. His dark wavy hair was combed back, and his silver Rolex watch glinted in the morning sun. He wore a clean white button-down shirt, dark pants, and polished shoes.

Gabe brightened when he saw me come in. "Hey, sweetheart."

I smiled. Ever since my parents had gotten married, my life had fallen into place. My abusive step-father and Jonny Raymond were behind bars, A was gone for good, and I had my best friends back. Nothing could ruin my happiness now.

I leaned in to hug him. "Hi, dad."

My mom strode into the room after me and walked over to the massive stainless-steel fridge. "We have coffee, orange juice, tea," she offered.

I tilted my head, confused. Since when did my mother approve of my coffee-drinking habit? She got up every morning at five a.m. sharp to do her daily yoga ritual and stayed strictly to herbal teas–she insisted that coffee was going to kill me someday. I couldn't remember the last time my mother had offered me coffee. "Um, coffee," I sounded out slowly.

I glanced at Gabe, hoping he might give me some insight for mom's strange behavior. He didn't. Instead, he reached over to pour himself a glass of orange juice from a pitcher sitting in the middle of the table and continued reading the _Rosewood Observer_ , completely oblivious. The walkie-talkie on my dad's belt cackled, but he made no move to answer it. My mom was bustling around the kitchen, turning on the waffle maker, mixing batter and blueberries into a bowl, and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. Within seconds, she set down a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

I looked between both my parents, feeling weirded out. What was next? Speaking in synchronized sentences? Matching their clothes accordingly?

When my dad caught my inquisitive stare, his eyes darted from me to my mom. "What?"

I sighed. "Seriously? If I wanted to join the Brady Bunch, I would turn on the TV."

He seemed confused. "What are you talking about?"

"This," I said, gesturing between him and my mom. "You and mom acting like Parents of the Year."

My mom glanced up, but she continued cooking. I swiveled my gaze to her, exasperated. "Would you just stop for a second?"

Finally, my mom stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. "Do you want breakfast? I'm making blueberry waffles, your favorite."

"No, I don't want waffles," I said, feeling my irritation rising. "I want you to tell me what the hell is going on."

Gabe folded up the newspaper and cleared his throat. "There's a reason your mom and I called you over here today. There's something that we've been meaning to talk to you about." He exchanged a look with my mom.

All the blood drained away from my face. _Oh, God_. They knew what I did the night Charles was murdered and they were going to ship me off to a reform school for the criminally insane. Or worse: have me committed in an asylum somewhere in Alaska.

My mom moved over to my dad and took his hand. "We're having a baby."

A huge feeling of relief washed through my body. "What?" I blurted.

Gabe smiled. "We wanted to be sure before we told you."

I was speechless. "Wow. That's…great."

I fidgeted with the Claddagh ring Jason had given me just a couple days ago. There was no way I could tell my dad what had happened with Charles, despite the lengths he'd gone to protect me from A in the past. He was the head detective on the Philadelphia State Police Department and anything I told him would put his job in jeopardy. As scared as I was, I couldn't let him risk that for me. I kept telling myself that what I'd done to Charles was to protect Ali. Charles was A, the mastermind behind the Game and who was hell-bent on destroying me and my best friends' lives. But it didn't really matter whether I was guilty or not, I was there. I'd seen it. And who knew who else saw it, too.

Suddenly, Gabe's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. "Detective Holbrook." His face fell gravely serious as he listened, then nodded. "Okay. I'll be right there."

Gabe ended the call and turned to me, his eyes apologetic. "I have to get to the station."

My mother frowned. "Why? What happened?"

"You know I can't talk about my cases," he said, rising from the table. "I'll call you as soon as I can." He kissed my mother and then leaned down to kiss my forehead.

Then he grabbed his keys and jacket and left through the front door.

A hot, sick feeling washed over me. My father was leading the case in Charles' murder investigation. A phone call from the station could mean only one thing.

It would've been comforting to be able to talk to someone about this who knew what I'd done and understood, but for now I needed to handle this on my own. No one could know that I was the last person to see Charles alive. It was a secret only my best friend, Josh, knew and one I intended to bury to the grave.

Toby

My eyes slowly fluttered open as I woke up on the forest floor of my fleece picnic blanket, with Spencer sleeping against my bare chest. The afternoon sunlight filtered in through the large maze of trees, casting a soft golden tone that spilled onto the ground in a burst of prism-tinged sparkles. I looked at Spencer nestled in my arms, who was still sleeping, her forehead and lips relaxed. We must have fallen asleep sometime between working on the house and talking about our relationship. Spencer used to sleep in my arms all the time when we were dating–especially when we'd sit together in the rocking chair I built for her by the window.

A surge of shame washed over me as I remembered the promise I made to someone else. It suddenly occurred to me to feel guilty, but I couldn't bring myself to. Because being with Spencer felt so right.

Spencer began to stir and her lips pulled up at the corners into a demure smile as she opened her big, beautiful brown eyes. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," I whispered back. I brushed her hair out of her eyes and pressed my lips to her forehead, and I felt a huge, relieved rush. Everything was perfect.

Spencer kissed my cheek, making me flush. "Thank you for the nap. I needed it."

The feeling of her lips lingered on my cheek. She sat up slowly and moved closer to me, but I hung back. I could hear my father's voice ringing in my ears: _You have a responsibility to this family, Toby. If you don't marry that girl, I will disown you. No money, no truck. Nothing._

Spencer frowned. "What's wrong?"

I took her hand. "There is something complicated that I have to deal with, but I want you so much and it's not easy."

She squeezed my hand. "I'm here for you."

I smiled at her. "I know." I lifted her hand up to my lips and kissed it.

Spencer blushed, coloring her cheeks a lovely shade of pink, and it made me fall even more in love with her. Her sweet, delicious scent wafted in my face, tempting me to kiss her. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer.

 _I will disown you._

Abruptly, I turned my eyes back to the edge of the forest that surrounded us, thinking about the new woman in my life. "So, it's crazy what happened to Charles," I said lightly.

Spencer blinked. "Um, yeah."

"Makes you think about things that are really important to you." I brushed off some imaginary lint on my jeans and stood up. "We should get back to work."

Spencer nodded. "Okay."

"Besides, if I keep you here any longer, your mom will think I fed you to the bears." I gave her a teasing smile.

She smiled back, but it didn't touch her eyes. Her expression was somber; it was the same look Spencer had when she broke up with me the first time inside my truck, when A had threatened to kill me if she didn't end things with us. It killed me to see her like this, and I instantly regretted pulling away.

I extended my hand out to her. "C'mon. I'll show you how to use a power drill."

We spent the next few minutes nailing the door frames together, with me standing behind Spencer while I helped her learn how to use a power drill, guiding her. When I was sure she could handle it by herself, I went inside the unfinished house and got to work on the wiring and plumbing. As I cut and connected the pipes into the walls, I glanced over at Spencer and smiled to myself, reveling in the two of us working together, building a future. It felt like the start of something bigger.

Soon, the bright, hot sun started beating down on us, and before I knew it, we were both sweating from the blistering heat. Sweat beaded at Spencer's forehead and her shoulders, and it had soaked through her shirt.

"It's so hot out," Spencer groaned.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse. I watched lustfully as Spencer peeled it off, revealing a very lacy shell-pink bralette. She stood in only a bra and jeans now. Sweat glistened along her breasts and lower back as she worked, gathering at the middle of her belly and lodging in places that made my pelvis throb. Spencer's bra was pressed tightly against her breasts, wet from all the sweat, and I could see her nipples hardening. I badly wanted to lick them. She was so sexy that I wanted to take her right here and now. And I hoped maybe she'd take off her jeans too, imagining what her panties looked like underneath…

I shook my head, trying to erase such dirty thoughts.

More sweat dripped in between Spencer's wet breasts, sliding down to her lower navel. My heart pounded, and I felt my member growing hard with arousal. A hot sensation rippled through my body; I couldn't control myself when I was around Spencer.

Spencer turned to me and smiled. I quickly composed myself as best as I could.

Suddenly, her cell phone buzzed. She picked up her bag off the ground and rummaged through it until she found her iPhone.

"Hello?" she answered. Spencer pulled the phone slightly away from her ear when someone's voice on the other end made a loud shrieking noise. "Jess, calm down. I'm going."

Spencer shut off her phone and looked at me apologetically. "I have to go."

I knitted my eyebrows together in concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," she said, but she wouldn't look me in the eye. "Something just came up." Spencer hurriedly buttoned up her shirt and slung her bag onto her shoulder. "I'll call you."

"Bye," I whispered sadly, trying not to feel disappointed.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang, too. I groaned when I saw who it was. "Hey."

"Where are you?" _her_ voice shrieked on the other end. "You were supposed to pick me up fifteen minutes ago."

I picked up my pocket watch from the worktable and looked at the time. The arms ticking on the vintage clock read 2:30 P.M. The gala for the senator campaign was tonight. I'd been so wrapped up in Spencer that I'd forgotten.

"I'm on my way." I glanced at Spencer, who was still standing there, hesitant to leave.

"You know how important this gala is to me. My mom is trying to get more voters for her campaign against Veronica Hastings."

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, letting out a long sigh. "I know, I know. I'm sorry." Spencer caught my eye and her face fell.

My heart pounded thunderously. It felt like I was treading through treacherous water and there was no way out. Spencer _knew_ me–she'd know if I were seeing someone.

"I'll make it up to you," I said, facing away from Spencer.

"Whatever," she snapped.

Then I hung up, my mind spinning in a million different directions. When I turned back, Spencer was already gone.

Spencer

After driving back from Toby's twenty minutes later, I pushed through the double doors of the barn and found Jess, Hanna and Ali gathered around the low wooden coffee table in the living room, who were sitting on the French beige-colored armchairs and matching pleated couch. "I'm so sorry, Ali," Jess whispered to Ali. "Did you have any idea at all?"

Ali shook her head. "No."

While Toby and I were working on building his house, Jess had called and arranged for everyone to meet at the barn to discuss Charles; the case was rapidly heating up. But now that there was clear evidence that his 'suicide' was faked, it was only a matter of time before the police connected us to Charles' murder. And it didn't help that we'd been suspected of murder in the past.

I sat next to Alison on the couch and pursed my lips. "The flower was placed in his hand to make it look like a suicide," I explained.

Not long after Toby and I had broken up, I'd thrown myself into my college studies. And for criminology class during my sophomore year at Georgetown, everyone had to find case studies of unique murders from the 20th Century to identify why they weren't solved. I'd written my essay about a man who murdered his wife on their wedding night and made it look like a suicide. As I did the necessary research for the essay, it was easy for me to relate to the woman's death because of how broken I felt about Toby, so I used it for the assignment. He'd pushed his wife out the five-story window and placed a bridal bouquet in her hand, and then moved her body lying facedown. Later on, the police discovered that the woman's neck had already been broken before she fell. The husband was arrested ten years later.

Ali's face contorted with anguish. "Who would do something like this?"

"Sara Harvey," Hanna answered.

"Well, the police can't see how she could push somebody off a building when she can barely hold a fork."

Hanna didn't look convinced. "Maybe she's lying about that."

"Or maybe she had help," I offered.

"My dad got a call from the police station this morning," Jess piped up. "It sounded important, but he wouldn't say what."

Fear prickled on the back of my neck. "Do you think it has to do with…Charles?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "But we have to find out what it is before the police come knocking on our door next."

"Either way, they took Sara off the suspect list." Alison's blue eyes were tight. "Aria left town quickly."

"She had to go back to work," I told her.

"Well, she was still angry with Charles," she pointed out.

"And we all know Aria would do anything to nail A," Jess added. "She lied to the police about Andrew Campbell kidnapping us, remember?"

"She wasn't angry," I said, quickly jumping to Aria's defense. "She was scared. And she said everything she could on that stand."

Ali didn't speak for a minute. "I saw her dad this morning. He said that she had left town one day earlier than planned."

A long pause filled the room, and we all glanced at each other warily. The more the silence dragged on, the more uncomfortable I felt. Could Aria really have had something to do with Charles' death? Chills slithered down my spine. But she wasn't the murdering type. Aria was tough, but she was the kindest, most thoughtful person on the planet. There was no way she'd be capable of killing Charles.

After a moment, Ali composed herself, straightened, and turned to all of us. "I was hoping you guys would come over for dinner tonight. Emily, Caleb. Jordan, too. I invited Jason as well. I could really use the company. It's been really lonely in that house." A sad and pained expression on her face made her look so vulnerable, which was very unlike Ali.

For as long as I'd known her, Alison always tried to appear strong and perfect for everyone else, but I could tell it was just a façade. Underneath she was falling apart. And I couldn't help but feel for her.

"Sure," I agreed.

Jess frowned. "What about Toby?"

Ali flinched as if Jess had slapped her. "What about him?"

"You only said Caleb, Jordan and Jason. Why isn't Toby allowed to come? You don't even like Caleb and you're inviting him into your home."

Ali narrowed her eyes at her. "Fine, if you want Toby to come, invite him."

"I will," Jess replied curtly.

"I think Toby already has plans," I piped up.

"Then he'll cancel them," Jess said, turning to me. "This is important."

It made me uncomfortable that Jess was insisting on Toby coming to dinner, like she felt he needed to be included. It was bad enough that I constantly thought about him, but to actually have him here, talking about his new life and how happy he was with his new girlfriend, was torture.

"What should we bring?" Hanna asked Ali.

Ali gave her a small smile. "Casserole."

"The police think that the murders were premeditated," I was telling Caleb later that afternoon. "That's why they were looking at us."

We were standing in the kitchen of the barn, with Caleb grabbing an apple from the massive double-door refrigerator while I sat in front of my laptop at the counter island. All day, I couldn't stop thinking about my old college paper, like whoever had faked Charles' suicide was trying to set me up. It couldn't be a coincidence that someone had killed Charles the same way as the murdered bride from my essay.

Caleb sat next to me at the island. "Alright, let them look. They'll see that you put what happened behind you and you've moved on."

"You know it hasn't been easy," I reminded him.

"Going to therapy isn't a strike against you," he tried to assure me. "You had a lot to overcome."

"I'm still overcoming it."

After the ordeal with Charles five years ago, my mother thought it would be best if I got professional help–a therapist to be exact. So she booked Dr. Reynolds, the number one best behavioral counselor in Washington D.C. I'd been seeing her for the last three years, with most of our therapy sessions revolving around my falling out with Toby and letting go of the many horrible things that had happened to me since Charles started torturing me and my friends. Though I suspected my therapy also had to do with sorting through my feelings of my devastating breakup with Toby, many of which was too heartbreaking to talk about. I was still trying to deal with it all, but it hadn't been easy. If it weren't for Caleb, I'd still be an emotional wreak.

During my first few appointments to see Dr. Reynolds, I came in wasted and crying hysterically. She said I was one of the saddest patients she'd ever seen. I'd called Caleb right after, confiding in him about how broken I felt. And before I knew it, everything else just came pouring out: my late-night hangovers, the trouble I was having with keeping my grades up in school, my nightmares about Charles, and my breakup with Toby and how he'd rejected me. I worried that Caleb would judge me, but he'd sweetly told me that I wasn't a bad person and that he understood what it was like to do things he wasn't proud of. He talked to me all night until I finally stopped crying. From then on, Caleb became me go-to for advice and a shoulder to cry on whenever I was feeling lost or upset. There were times when I longed to call Toby and tell him about all of it, but every time I picked up the phone, I hung up, too ashamed of myself to say the words out loud. And besides, Toby hadn't been there for me in a long time, and Caleb was the best friend a girl could ask for.

"It's not gonna make anybody think that you're capable of murder," Caleb said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"No, this might." I turned the computer towards him, showing him the document of my criminology essay. It glowed like a neon sign on the screen.

Caleb's eyebrows furrowed. "What's this?"

"It's the paper of my sophomore year at Georgetown," I answered. "Each of us had to do a case on a study of a unique murder, and I did mine on a woman who was killed on her wedding night. Did you know that it's human instinct to go head first when you leap to your death?"

"No," he admitted.

"Well, it is," I said. "And later on, they discovered that her neck was broken before she fell. She was found holding her bridal bouquet and her fingers were wiped clean."

I stared sadly at the computer screen–it was something Toby would've known without me having to tell him and it wasn't just because he was a cop. He would have let me correct him, even when he knew I was wrong. And he'd hold me in his arms to comfort me, stroking my hair as he assured me that everything was going to be okay.

"What class was this for?" Caleb asked.

"It's for criminology." I pointed at the essay. "Look, that's exactly the way that Charles died. What if somebody knows that I wrote this paper, they know my history here, and they're trying to set me up?"

"Spence, breathe," Caleb told me. "Being back here is making you paranoid. Nobody's trying to hurt you, okay? I'm telling you…this is all just one big coincidence."

"I don't see how the police are gonna see it that way," I argued.

More than anything, I wanted to talk to Toby about this. But he didn't want me anymore. I quickly pushed him out of my mind, trying to find something else to distract me from the empty hole and the unbearable pain. The nothingness had only grown stronger since coming back to Rosewood; I could see Toby everywhere here. The hole began to gnaw on my insides, feeding off of the hollow emptiness in my chest. But when I was around Caleb, it didn't throb and bleed so much around the edges.

I checked the time on my watch. Five forty-five. "We should get going if we want to make it to Ali's."

Caleb nodded. "Sure, okay. Do you need help with the wine?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Thanks."

As I went to grab the bottle of Cabernet wine off the kitchen table that we were bringing over, Caleb reached for it at the same time and our hands touched. His fingers brushed over mine slowly. He lowered his gaze to mine, unleashing the power of his dark brown eyes, and I tried to suppress the hot, excited feeling that shivered through me. Why was he looking at me like that? And why did I suddenly feel so fluttery and flushed?

Finally, Caleb pulled his hand away from mine without taking his eyes off mine. When he touched me, a little spark passed through us. I suddenly felt dizzy and I couldn't think. Not of Toby and certainly not Hanna.

 _Hanna_. Her face swam into my head. Hanna letting me lean on her after I told her my parents were getting divorced. Hanna hugging me when I told her A had taken everything from me, comforting me because I was forced to make Toby think I'd cheated on him with my sister's ex-fiancé, Wren. Hanna holding my hand in the hospital while Toby was in surgery from his car accident. Caleb was Hanna's _ex-boyfriend_.

I looked away quickly. Caleb moved away from me, coughing nervously. "Um, we should…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

I grabbed the wine, following Caleb through the door. We walked across the street to Ali's house in awkward silence. On the front porch, the door was already wide open. The aroma of freshly baked bread and olive oil wafted through the room, and the sound of people's laughter and chatter bounced off the walls.

"Oh, there's more," Hanna was saying to Emily.

I looked over at the living room. Hanna and Emily were sitting on the couch, talking animatedly to each other. Hanna looked glamorous as always in a white, sleeveless button-up blouse that was paired with black floral pants, and Emily wore a casual gray T-shirt and jeans. Jess and Jason stood in the corner, with his arms wrapped around her as they murmured quietly to each other.

My stomach clenched. It was unbearable to watch Jason and Jess being so intimate out here in the open like this. It screamed happiness and true love, making my unhealed wounds throb. It was too much, too real. I had to tear my eyes away.

Hanna and Emily both looked up when they saw Caleb and I enter, and my cheeks burned. It felt strange arriving at dinner with Caleb, like we were a _couple_ or something. And what would Hanna think? I didn't want the first real get-together we were having with everyone to consist of my friends shooting me evil glares across the table. Not to mention Jess was inviting Toby over, which only made it more nerve-wracking and awkward.

Hanna's lips parted, and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. From the hurt look on her face, I knew she was thinking there was something going on between Caleb and I. Guilt twisted in my stomach.

"Hi, Hanna," I greeted nervously. "Hi, Jordan."

Jordan, who was standing next to Hanna, was tall and well-built with broad shoulders, and wore a gorgeous navy-blue blazer and button-up shirt. His dark brown hair was wavy and short. He had beautiful skin, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes.

Jordan leaned in to wrap his arms around me in a warm hug. Caleb's features tightened, darkening into a mixture of resentment and disappointment.

"Uh, Jordan, this is Caleb," Hanna said, gesturing to Caleb. "Caleb, Jordan."

Jordan extended his hand out to Caleb. "I finally get to meet the Caleb Rivers."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you," Caleb said awkwardly, and shook his hand.

"Any chance you want to help me get the last load of food from the car?" Jordan asked.

"Uh, yeah," Caleb replied. "How much did you guys bring?"

"I know," Jordan laughed. "I come from a big family. Always over-order."

Caleb followed Jordan out the door to Hanna's parked car outside. Once the two of them were out of earshot, Emily leaned in close to Hanna. "They'll be fine," she assured her, noticing Hanna's worried expression.

I knew it wasn't easy to be around an ex after a breakup, especially if that so-called ex had moved on with someone else so quickly. I could relate.

While Hanna and Emily talked to Ali, I began to set up the dining room table for dinner, putting out Alison's dark-orange placemats. In the center of the table, there was an assortment of purple baby's breath, roses, and lavender in a tall glass vase that was being used as the centerpiece.

Jess sidled up next to me, looking pretty in a long-sleeved, sheer black floral dress that fell just above the knee, and her hair was pulled back with a diamond barrette. She looked gorgeous. "Hey, how are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Given the circumstances."

Jess' eyes softened "It must be hard being back when you and Toby–"

"Are over," I finished.

"But you still love him," she said.

"It doesn't matter how I feel. He's moved on." I picked up the vase of flowers and started to move them into the kitchen, trying to free up some space for all the food.

Ali's head snapped towards me. "What are you doing?"

I stared at her, taken aback. "I was just going to make some room."

She glared at me. "I bought those for Charles to welcome him home."

"Ali," Jess scolded.

"No, it's okay," I assured her. "The flowers can stay there."

Ali nodded. "Okay, I'll go get some serving spoons." Then she turned for the kitchen, rummaging through the bottom drawers for two large, wooden salad spoons.

I continued setting up the table with Jess and Jason's help, but after a minute, I looked over at Ali. She was standing at the kitchen counter, absorbed in something by the window, but something in the sagging slope of her shoulders made me want to go to her. When Caleb and Jordan returned with the food, Ali greeted them cheerfully at the door, her dark mood seeming to have evaporated.

"You can put the food over there," Ali instructed, taking the container of food from Jordan. "Everyone's setting up the table."

I glanced at the front door for the millionth time that night, waiting for Toby to walk through. Since I'd bolted from the construction site that morning, we hadn't spoken. Now things were even weirder between us than before.

I saw Hanna and Emily kneeling down on the floor as they looked for a corkscrew for the four bottles of wine that all of us brought over. They were talking casually, and Hanna looked relaxed and happy.

"What do you do there?" I overheard Hanna ask Emily.

"Um, we research cures," she answered, and I knew they were talking about the Salk Institute. "Alzheimer's, diabetes, infectious diseases." Emily had been strangely vague about her job at the Salk Institute since she announced she was staying in Rosewood to be with her mom.

"Damn. Well you save 'em, I'll dress 'em." Hanna made a pinched face in irritation and she groaned. "God, there's four bottles of wine and nobody can find a wine opener. This is not happening." She stood and headed into the pantry closet.

I turned my head toward Caleb, who was helping Jordan carry a mahogany-wooden table with attached leaves into the dining area, noting the obvious tension between him and Jordan.

"Caleb?" I said.

He turned. "Yeah?"

I searched my brain for a clever excuse. "Um, I can't find any wine glasses. Wanna go check the pantry for me?"

"Yeah," he answered in an oddly monotone voice. He slipped into the closet, seeming unaware of my plan.

The truth was, there were no wine glasses in the pantry. Alison had gotten rid of all the alcohol when the hospital released Charles, thinking that he would be living here. I had to come up with something to get Caleb in the panty closet alone with Hanna. They needed to talk and sort things out. With everything going on lately, the two of them were right back to where they were during those sad, awkward months after their breakup. Caleb hadn't even congratulated Hanna on her engagement.

I started arranging the plates and silverware onto the table when Jordan approached. "Let me help you with that." He set down some plates on the placemats.

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Do you have your own place in D.C.?" he asked.

"I have an apartment out in D.C.," I answered, "and a good paying job as a lobbyist."

"Nice." Jordan grinned. "So do you and Caleb see much of each other in D.C.?"

"Uh, yeah, we do," I stuttered. "I mean, I don't see much of anybody except my phone. But of all the people that I don't see, I don't see Caleb the most. Or the least."

"Uh, it's nice you keep in contact. I barely see any friends from high school."

"Oh, we didn't for a while," I said, noticing Jordan seemed a little nervous. Maybe he was worried about meeting Hanna's closest friends. Or maybe it was being in the same room as her ex-boyfriend that had him so wound up.

"And then we ran into each other in Madrid," I went on. "It was crazy. It was a total fluke." I paused, thinking back to that strange day. "Yeah. I just finished my year abroad and he was backpacking through Europe. I was about to get on a train in Salamanca and I looked up and he was just standing there on the opposite platform."

Jordan looked jovial. "Wow. That sounds amazing."

"Yeah, it was," I said uncomfortably.

Caleb had been there for me when no one else had. Being away from Rosewood for so long, nobody knew how far Toby and I had grown apart. But Caleb understood and he didn't once judge me, even when I felt like a terrible person. He was my solace in this small, empty world. I couldn't imagine not having Caleb in my life. But I couldn't risk what we had by acting on some silly schoolgirl crush. It meant too much to me. Not to mention it would ruin my friendship with Hanna forever, too. We'd be having double dates with her and Jordan–my best friend and his ex-girlfriend. How uncomfortable would _that_ be? And anyway, Hanna was my best friend; we'd made a rule years ago to never date each other's ex-boyfriends. We agreed that our friendship was way more important than letting a guy get in between us.

It was a rule I intended to follow.

A minute later, Hanna and Caleb stepped out of the pantry closet. I was surprised by the prickle of jealousy that had unexpectedly surfaced, burning through me like fire. There was something about the way Caleb was looking at Hanna that bothered me, knowing he was still pining for her. She would never return those same feelings because she was already in love with someone else, and I didn't want to see him get hurt again. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness overcame me then. But I'd wanted them to be alone together, so why was I feeling this way?

In the same moment, Alison's cell phone rang. She saw who was calling and immediately answered. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end said something, and her mouth drew into a tight grimace. "Thank you. I, uh, appreciate you calling."

Ali hung up.

Emily swung her eyes to Ali's. "Ali, who was that?"

"Lorenzo," Ali replied. "He said he'd call me with any updates."

My curiosity flared. "What was it? The update."

Ali stiffened. "Time of death. Charles was killed around four o'clock a.m."

Hanna looked at her empathically. "Are you okay?"

Ali met her eyes slowly. "Lorenzo says this is good news. They're one step closer to finding his killer."

An unspoken, tense silence fell over the room. The walls around us had crumbled, destroying every ounce of strength in our bond with lies and distrust. Everyone was acting so wary of one another now, like we were strangers, and I started to wonder if I ever knew them at all.

Toby

By the time I stepped through the double-glass doors of the Kimpton Hotel in Philadelphia, the sky was just fading into a dark blue. It was only six o'clock, but already the streets had emptied and all the house lights were turned off. Charles' murder had everyone spooked.

Tonight was the gala fundraiser dinner for the public senator election between Veronica Hastings and Kristine Phillips. The hotel was big and elegant, filled with crystal chandeliers, a royal red velvet carpet, and round tables lined with white tablecloths inside the ballroom for dinner and dancing. An orchestra band had been hired to play soft, mellow music for the event, along with one of the best caterers in town who had prepared caviar and lobster bisque. Inside, the ballroom was buzzing with people sipping champagne and chattering about the election.

But I didn't care about any of that.

I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the valet to bring my truck back from the gated parking lot. I'd changed into my best dress pants and a long-sleeved, maroon button-up shirt because I was only staying at the gala for a few hours before heading over to Alison's for dinner with my old friends, much to the Phillips' dismay. And I knew Spencer would be dressed up and gorgeous as usual.

My heart raced just thinking about seeing her tonight. Would she be happy to see me?

My gold Chevy truck finally rolled up to the side of the curb, and I took the keys from the valet. As I drove through the dark streets, I thought about telling Spencer the truth about who I was building the house for. Maybe I could even stop by the flower shop on the way over and buy a bouquet of her favorite red roses. Thinking better of it, I took a left at the turn and headed west to Alison's house. Only a loser would buy his ex-girlfriend flowers.

But Spencer used to be mine. I'd changed a lot from being the creepy boy next door that Ali used to make fun of. Her kind-heartedness was one of the reasons I'd first fallen in love with her. Before Spencer and I became friends, though, I thought she was one of Ali's stuck-up, smart, popular minions among her clique of friends who did all the dirty work for her, and stood by and watched as Ali ripped into her targets. Ali had even given me a nickname: Creepy Cavanaugh, because she thought I spied through people's windows and sacrificed squirrels. But I'd also seen a softer side underneath Spencer's tough, quiet exterior. One year in 9th grade, when everyone went to the lake for the summer, id overheard Ali poking fun of me, saying I liked to kill squirrels in the woods. Spencer, who had been relaxing on a beach towel on her stomach, flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder, turned to Ali and said, "Do you ever get tired of shooting at the lowly aimed fruit?" I'd been so surprised that my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. I wasn't used to people defending me back then, especially flawlessly beautiful girls like Spencer.

I shook the memory from my head and realized I was now standing on Alison's front porch. When I stepped through the door, everything moved in slow motion. My brain stalled for a moment before I could react properly, as my eyes settled on _her_ face. And all I could see was her; everything else disappeared.

Spencer stared back at me, seeming just as mesmerized. She wore a light-blue denim dress shirt over a pair of black leggings and ballet flats. Her long, dark-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in gorgeous waves, and her plump, pink lips looked extra kissable. Spencer was so beautiful that all the feeling in my limbs melted away. I wanted to take her in my arms right there and kiss her.

I stood frozen in the foyer, too transfixed on Spencer to move. Finally, I forced my legs forward and miraculously made it into the dining room. Jess looked pleased to see me.

"Toby!" Jess cried, throwing her arms around me. "You made it."

I cleared my throat. "Um, yeah. I wouldn't miss it."

"We're just about to start dinner. Why don't you sit next to Spencer?"

My eyes immediately fell on Spencer, my hands trembling. Robotically, I pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. I didn't know whether to feel nervous or ecstatic about sitting so close to her. I was too numb with shock to react.

A remarkably good-looking guy stood in the corner, fiddling with a bottle of red wine. His features were sharp and flawless beneath a pair of brilliant green eyes and dark wavy hair. And his cheekbones looked as if they had been sculpted from an old master. He was dressed in a navy blazer over a blue long-sleeved, button-up shirt, charcoal-grey pants, and a pair of expensive-looking loafers. This had to be Hanna's fiancé, Jordan, that Spencer had been telling me about.

He set down the opened bottle of wine and smiled when his eyes settled on me, flashing a set of brilliantly white teeth. "Ah, you must be Toby. Spencer's told me so much about you." His voice was polite, with an Australian accent.

"Uh, yeah." I exchanged a glance with Spencer, but she quickly looked away, flushing with embarrassment.

"It's nice to meet you." Jordan extended his hand to me.

"You, too." I shook his hand.

Ali took her seat at the head of the table. "Let's say grace," she announced, and everyone clasped their hands together at the table.

"Hanna, give me your hand," Jordan was saying, reaching for Hanna's hand. Their fingers wrapped around each other's, fitting together perfectly like it had always been meant to be that way. I thought I saw Caleb scowling at them.

When I took Spencer's hand in mine, the touch of her skin against mine warmed my insides. Her hand felt warm and soft in my own, our fingers entwining together like missing puzzle pieces.

"Thank you, Heavenly Father, for this healing food and these dear friends," Ali began. "And thank you to all those who are working tirelessly to seek justice for Charles. And thank you for helping the police find Charles' killer and anyone who could be protecting him or her. Thank you always for your love and guidance. Amen."

Everyone remained silent for several, long seconds, staring at Alison quizzically. Spencer looked stunned, throwing Ali a bewildered look. Jordan, however, sat there casually, oblivious to Alison's speech about Charles.

I tried to hold it together, but I couldn't help but wonder if Ali had been talking to me specifically when she'd said _police_. It couldn't have been clearer even if she had thrown a lit grenade. Ali knew I was working on the case for Charles' mysterious murder. It was almost as if she was telling me it was my sole responsibility to bring justice to Charles' death, or else.

When the meal began, we ate casserole in the light from the crystal chandelier hanging above. The nine of us spent the evening talking pleasantly and catching up. Ali was asking Jordan about how the wedding plans were coming along, and Hanna and Caleb made plans to hang out together again as it had been so long since they'd last seen each other. Emily spent the first half of dinner talking to Jason and Jess, saying how wonderful they were together and wondering what plans they had for their future, trying to teeter the conversation from herself when Jess would ask Emily what she'd been up to in California. I talked mostly to Spencer, filling her in on how things were going lately, occasionally getting interrupted by Jess whenever she thought we were in danger of ending the conversation. Spencer looked pleased when I told her I skipped the gala to see her tonight, and when her knee brushed up against mine, I was given the impression that it wasn't an accident. Caleb, however, watched Spencer intently from the end of the table with darkened eyes that was giving me the protective instinct to shield her away from him.

I looked around the table at the boisterous laughter bubbling from everyone, feeling as though I was a part of something whole. I smiled a lot from talking to Spencer, happy in a fluttery, spinning-in-eternity kind of way because I was with her.

I didn't want to leave.

Spencer

Since Toby had driven all the way from Philadelphia from the gala in his truck, Jason offered to follow him home in his silver Volvo to make sure he made it back safely. While Jess and Emily helped Ali wash the dishes, I slipped into the pantry closet so I could talk to Hanna privately.

"Wow," was all Hanna said when she stepped inside the oversize pantry.

"Was that speech directed at us?" I wondered.

Hanna paused. "Not us…but Aria maybe."

I frowned. "Why would Ali think Aria would have anything to do with Charles' death?"

"Maybe she did," she said. "Aria left the hotel the night he was killed."

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I saw her. She left around 3 A.M. and I don't know when she came back."

"Well, let's just ask her," I suggested.

Hanna let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I tried that. She denied anywhere but going to her car."

I was grappling for ideas in my head until I found one. It was a stupid and risky plan, but it was the only one I had. I hoped Hanna still had some tricks up her sleeve so that she could get her hands on the hotel security footage from the night Charles was killed.

"Okay, well, there are surveillance cameras right in the lobby of the hotel," I worded out carefully.

Hanna looked at me blankly. "Yeah."

"Your mom's the manager. So you could find a way to get a look at the footage from that night."

"No," Hanna said sternly. "I don't do stuff like that anymore."

I looked at her gently. "Hanna, I know it's a lot to ask, okay? But how else are we supposed to make sure that Aria came back before Charles died?"

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly. Then she stomped out of the closet into the kitchen without even saying a word to Ali.

Later that evening, after everyone went home, Caleb and I walked back to the barn, exhausted from the intensity of dinner. The small house lights dotting the pathway glowed against the darkness of the late evening sky, and the normal nighttime cricket sounds filled the air. I unlocked the barn's front door and Caleb and I slipped inside, giggling, still tipsy from the red wine we devoured at Alison's house.

I snapped on the lights. The barn was empty, and Jason and Jess still weren't home yet. A feeling of dread weighed heavily on me. Caleb's presence made me feel like cockroaches were crawling all over me. The couch, which Caleb had been sleeping on for the last few nights, was made up neatly with a bunch of fluffy pillows and a cashmere throw blanket was folded over the arm. I thought of my college essay and the possibility that Aria could have been responsible for Charles' death, the idea making me more frantic. Immediately, I went around the living room and made sure all the silver picture frames were straight and the chair throw pillows were fluffed symmetrically. In the kitchen, I fixed the flower vase so that it was centered in the middle of the counter island and was watered. I positioned the oranges so they were arranged in a pyramid pattern inside the fruit bowl. When I returned to the living room, I studied the front of Jess' old art history book from Yale. On the cover was a secretive-looking Mona Lisa in her famous oil painting portrait.

I tried breathing in deeply through my nose the way Jess had taught me, but I still felt worried and stressed. Finally, I started pulling off all the couch pillows to make room for Caleb. _It's not gonna make anybody think that you're capable of murder,_ Caleb's voice rang in my ear.

I wished Toby were here. He would've known the right things to say.

Caleb noticed the worried lines in my forehead, and added a pillow to the piled stack on the floor. "Spence, stop worrying about the paper. You gotta let it go."

"Are you sure you're okay sleeping on the couch again?" I asked him, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, totally. It's a lot more comfortable than those hostel beds in Europe."

I smiled, recalling our trip to Spain. "Can you believe that it's been three years since we were in Madrid?"

Caleb shook his head, chuckling. "That's crazy."

Spain was the one thing I had with Caleb that I could call mine, something that bonded us together in friendship. We would forever have something special between us from our adventure there.

"I don't think I'm ever going to forgive you for dragging me to that awful bullfight," I reminded him bitterly.

"Come on, it was not that awful," he insisted. "It was awful when you started screaming _Savages_ at the drunk crowd."

"It was terrible from the beginning," I cried. "That's why I was screaming. It was awful."

"Okay," he admitted.

I glared at him through narrowed eyes. "You made me cry."

Caleb laughed. "I didn't make you do anything."

"You didn't stop me from crying in the street," I pointed out.

"You were pretty livid," he agreed.

I clenched my teeth. "It was not okay. Toby never would've done that to me."

At the mention of Toby's name, Caleb's expression morphed rapidly with an emotion that I couldn't understand, but he kept his smile in place. It was a mixture of annoyance and something hot and fiery that frightened me in a different way.

He paused several long seconds before answering. "But hey, I redeemed myself when I snuck us into Retiro Park with a couple bottles of Sangria."

"Yeah, you did," I lied.

"That was a beautiful sunset." He was gazing at me with those dark brown eyes again, fixed on me in a way that made me more and more uncomfortable. "It was my best night in Europe."

I dropped my eyes to the floor. "Yeah."

Suddenly, I didn't want to be around him anymore. Caleb did strange things to me when he was here, made me feel weak. And his eyes were strongly compelling and held my own against the little willpower I had left.

Caleb's eyes lit up in that moment, as if just remembering something, and his tone altered. "Uh, hey, your mom asked Jess and I to stick around and help with the campaign."

"That's a great idea." When my cell phone buzzed with a new text, I brought it out and glanced at the screen. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you."

Caleb didn't take his eyes off me even as I pressed READ, so I angled the phone away from his view. There was a new message from Hanna. I'd asked her to text me with any updates on finding the hotel security footage before we left Alison's, but that had been only fifteen minutes ago.

Found my mom's keys to the security room

– Hanna

A chill snaked up my spine. Perhaps Aria did have something to do with Charles' death. But could she really be capable of murder? It was beyond disturbing to think about. And what about the things Ali had said right before dinner–did Aria leave town solely because she _was_ the true killer?

After making up a bed for Caleb on the couch, I gathered my purse and keys. I felt someone watching me and when I looked over, Caleb was standing there, staring right at me. He smiled widely, weirdly at me and his eyes glittered as dark as chocolate. His pupils were dilated like a cat's, filling my vision, making me fall deeper and deeper into them until it felt as if I were drowning.

Finally, I found the good sense to force myself to look away and turned for the door. When I stepped out onto the grass, all I could see was darkness.

I stumbled up to my Toyota Highlander in the gravel pathway, trying to figure out what had just happened. I climbed into the leather seat of my car and relief washed over me. _What am I doing?_ I thought in bewilderment. _He's Hanna's ex-boyfriend, her first love._

But that wasn't even the worst part. For those last few minutes, I had forgotten about Toby. His face filled my mind now, and a longing for him filled my body like a physical pain. I needed Toby, wanted his arms around me to keep me safe.

I started the car and glanced over my shoulder, peeling away from the barn. I stared blankly ahead as I maneuvered through the dark streets. Suddenly, the world around me flooded with brightness and color and I found myself parked in front of the familiar entrance to the Radley Hotel. I started toward the front steps and hurried down the hall to the security room, where Hanna, Emily and Jess were waiting for me. I heard voices behind a wooden closed door as I approached.

I stood in the hallway for a minute, looking around and listening for anyone who might be close by. A few doors down, I saw a guy dressed in a navy janitor's uniform, along with two other maintenance guys pushing a laundry cart. I quickly ducked into the door labeled SECURITY.

Hanna, Emily and Jess sat in front of a computer in a small, bland room surrounded by selves of files and metal drawers. They were staring intently at a black and white video footage, titled with the date.

"Hey, the hallway's clear," I announced, "but there's a cleaning crew down the hall."

"Okay, hurry," Emily said to Hanna.

"I'm going as fast as I can." Hanna pressed a couple keys on the keyboard, and moved the mouse over the screen to find the right file that held all the videos from the night of Charles' death.

"What did I miss?" I walked over to them at the computer and leaned over their shoulders to watch the opening of a new video. A couple of blurry figures moved around on the screen, but I couldn't make them out.

"Aria left the hotel with Ezra," Jess answered.

"What?" I shrieked.

A strange, disturbing sensation slithered over me. Aria and Ezra used to be together–it wouldn't surprise me if they had reunited that night. They'd broken up and gotten back together so many times, it made my head spin.

"But she didn't come back with him." Hanna pointed to the time in the top left corner of the screen. "It's four twenty-eight."

I felt sick. We all knew Aria hated Charles for what he did to her, for trying to throw her off a moving train after he'd locked her inside a box, and then again when he'd kidnapped and tortured us in the Dollhouse, how he was so manipulative, that he was a psychopath. Charles kept a lot of secrets–maybe Aria had finally uncovered what his real intentions were for getting out of Welby and she tried to stop him.

Emily turned to me. "What time did Ali say that Charles was killed?"

"Close to four," I said. "Just because she came back after the time of murder, it doesn't mean that she had anything to do with it."

"No," Hanna agreed, "but it doesn't look good."

"Why else would Aria have left the hotel in the middle of the night?" Jess added.

I stared at the screen, piecing it all together. It couldn't be true. But it was hard to ignore the facts right in front of me: Aria had left the hotel an hour just before Charles was killed and didn't come back until the time of his murder. Aria knew Charles was staying with Ali after he'd been released from the hospital. The Welby State Psychiatric Hospital let him out of their care, and Aria couldn't handle it.

"What do we do?" Emily stressed. "Do we erase the video?"

Hanna whipped her head to Emily. "We're not in high school, Emily. We're gonna talk to Aria."

"She won't tell us anything," she pointed out.

"Well, I'm not covering for Aria if she's guilty," Jess said right after.

"Well, she doesn't have a choice this time." I grabbed my purse. "C'mon, let's go."

Emily frowned. "Where?"

"To Aria's old house."

"I'm way ahead of you," Hanna said, standing up.

Hanna led us through the lobby and outside to the parking lot, her Chanel purse swinging on her arm. She unlocked her Mercedes with her keys and slid into the driver's seat. I sat in the passenger seat, and Emily and Jess settled in the back.

Hanna turned the key into the ignition and sped out of the lot. When we arrived at the Montgomery's modern Craftsman-style house, Hanna parked her car at the curb and all four of us jumped out, walking up the front steps. The lights from inside the foyer were still on.

I rang the doorbell, releasing three long, deep dong chimes. Aria appeared through the frosted panels of the window a few seconds later and opened the door, standing in the doorway with a confused look on her face. Jess, Emily, Hanna and I pushed around her and walked into her house.

Aria's eyes were cautious. "How did you know I was back?"

"I saw you visiting Ezra," Emily told her. "We know you saw him the night Charles died."

"We know you left the hotel for more than five minutes," Hanna accused.

I stood facing her with my arms crossed tightly over my chest. "Yeah, and by the time you came back Charles was already dead."

Jess turned her fierce, fiery gaze to Aria. "It's time to tell us what really happened that night."

Aria took a deep breath as if she was preparing for battle. "Okay, this is what happened..."

The night Charles was killed, Aria explained, Ezra came to our hotel room because she couldn't sleep and they wandered around town for a little bit. And they saw Charles there too, going inside the church. But just before they headed back, Aria said she noticed there was something strange about Ezra's expression, and he looked angry. And then they both left their separate ways.

"He told me he went home afterwards," Aria said. "But I don't know." A worried, uncertain look passed over her face. "He-he was so angry."

Hanna looked at Aria and frowned. "Aria, what is it?"

Aria's eyes were filled with a different kind of fear. "I know him. And I know that Ezra can't look me in the eye when he lies. And when he told me he went home, he didn't look at me."

"Well, we have to tell someone," Jess spoke in a self-assured voice from a place of inner fire, as only she could. "Lorenzo, Ali, someone."

Emily turned to her, alarmed. "No, we don't. Now, this is a giant leap. We're talking about Ezra killing someone. I mean, until we have actual proof we don't tell anyone anything."

"It's not." I lowered my eyes, too afraid to look either of them directly. "It's not a giant leap. In fact, I think I told Ezra how to do it."

Everyone looked surprised. "What makes you think that?" Emily asked.

"Because." I took a deep breath. "During my sophomore year at Georgetown, I wrote a paper on a case study of a woman who was murdered the night before her wedding. The killer made it look like a suicide, just like Charles."

"You did a college essay on a murder?" Hanna didn't look angry exactly, just confused.

"It was for criminology class," I explained. "We had to do public case studies on unique murders from the 20th Century."

"And you did yours on a murder the same way as Charles," she said slowly.

"I know, it's all my fault." I ran a hand through my hair. "If I had known Ezra was going to…"

"Spencer, this is not your fault," Jess told me sternly, narrowing her eyes at Hanna. "Just tell us what happened, from the beginning."

I felt my stomach clench up. "Ezra was on his book tour and we got together for lunch. He was still trying to figure out what he wanted to write next, and he said that he was toying with the idea of a murder mystery. I had just written my paper, so I told him about the case in detail."

When I was finished, my friends were silent. Jess raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. "Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"

I felt tears filling my eyes. "No, I'm not. Ezra knows about the paper I wrote and he used it to kill Charles."

"Maybe Ezra did this to protect you," Hanna suggested, looking at Aria.

Aria looked back at her, puzzled. "Protect me? By copying some bizarre murder from the past?"

"Spencer, this was a public case," Emily rationalized. "You weren't the only two who knew about it."

"He saw how upset Aria was in the courtroom," I disagreed. "And he's still angry about what happened to Nicole. I mean, who knows what he's capable of now?"

"No, he's hurting," Jess said. "There's a difference."

"If he did kill Charles and the police find out, it's gonna look like you were involved too," Hanna said to Aria. "You left the hotel with Ezra and you came back a half hour after Charles was killed."

Aria's hazel eyes widened. "Nobody can see that security footage."

"Why did you show this to me?" my mother asked. She was sitting at my computer, looking over my old college essay that I'd written about the murder, connecting me to Charles' death.

After my friends and I left Aria's house, I'd come straight home to find my mother in the kitchen, papers and political Hastings stickers for the campaign scattered around the counter island. I couldn't let this go on any longer; I had to tell her. If anything about my criminology paper came into the limelight, it could bring unwanted attention to her and ruin the campaign, if I hadn't done that already. Someone from my class at Georgetown might have remembered it, seen the news about Charles, and thought I had something to do with his death. So I brought out my laptop and pulled out the document of my paper. _Just do it,_ I told myself. I'd closed my eyes, shoved my laptop in front of my mom, and when I opened them, the essay shone in front of her from the screen.

I kept all my college papers on my computer and saved everything. If someone else had seen my paper, they could have posted it online to spark interest in the election, the same way that blogger had mentioned my dark past. I looked nervously at my mom now as she stared at the computer screen, worried about all the mistakes I'd made. How Melissa had caught her fiancé, Wren, kissing me and then our parents banned him from going near the property ever again. How I'd gotten sent to Radley, what used to be a mental institution for troubled teens, when I thought I saw Toby's dead body in the woods and broke down. The time my friends and I told the police Ian Thomas was dead when we saw his body hanging from the bell tower's rope inside the church, only to find him gone ten minutes later. And, to top it all off, the second A framed me and had everyone–including the police–believing I had killed Bethany Young, the girl who'd disappeared the same time as Ali.

Politicians were supposed to be trustworthy, have perfect hair, plastic smiles, and a goody-manicured fashion sense. I didn't want my mom associated with this. It would destroy her political reputation.

"I wanted you to know that I wrote it," I told my mother. "Somebody from my class could remember it and read about Charles and connect the dots."

"What dots?" Mrs. Hastings knit her eyebrows together. "Do you know anything about what happened to Charles?"

"No," I answered honestly.

"Then I'm not worried."

"Mom, how can you not worry?" I cried, my voice dripping with guilt. "If this gets out, it's going to ruin your campaign if I haven't done that already."

"You haven't," Mrs. Hastings said confidently. "And it won't. We'll get ahead of this."

"How?" I asked.

"Caleb already started a narrative about you being bullied on social media," she assured me. "If this comes up, it'll already be diffused. You are not a liability, Spencer. You're my daughter." Then my mother rose from the table and simply left the room, walking up the stairs to her bedroom.

I sighed. When I saw something move in the shadows through the glass-door window, I jumped. A scream froze in my throat. My muscles were locked in place, too stunned by terror to move. I watched helplessly as the figure in the darkness moved from beneath the shadows to the door.

A second later, a man's large hand reached for the doorknob. I moved slowly toward him, my heart hammering inside my chest. I peered through the blinds concealing the intruder, nearly collapsing with relief when I saw who it was.

"Toby," I blurted, opening the door. "What are you doing here?"

Toby stood on the back porch, still wearing his maroon button-up shirt and black pants. He looked so gorgeous, it took my breath away. I couldn't believe just a few seconds ago I had mistaken him for an intruder.

He smiled broadly, sweetly. "I wanted to see you."

I threw my arms around him in ease, happy to see him.

Toby hugged me back. "Are you okay?" he murmured.

I felt the moisture from earlier return to my eyes, thinking about Charles' murder and my old criminology paper. I didn't know if I was okay. There was so much going on through my head, I couldn't quite figure out what I was feeling.

Tears ran down my cheeks, soaking his shirt. "I think I did something really stupid." I choked back a sob.

Toby held me tighter, stroking my hair comfortingly.

"If I had known you were coming over, I would have made more coffee," said a voice behind us.

Toby and I jumped apart, startled. Caleb sat on the couch a foot away, the TV flickering in the background. His brown hair was rumpled messily as if he'd been up for hours and the collar of his faded charcoal T-shirt had slid off his shoulder.

"Caleb," I squeaked. "I didn't see you there."

Caleb gestured to the silver Mac laptop sitting next to mine on the island counter. "I was working on a video for your mom's campaign site and decided to take a break. It's a silent commercial to convince people why they should vote for her."

"Don't you computer geniuses ever take a break?" I teased. "My mom said you already fixed it."

"There's always room for improvement." He shot me a seductive smile.

Toby narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Caleb, and I leaned into him. Caleb's gaze zeroed in on our closeness. "What are you doing here?" Caleb asked Toby.

"I came to see Spencer," Toby answered, his voice hard. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," Caleb said a little territorially.

"Um, he's staying in the barn until the election," I quickly informed him.

Toby nodded. "Why don't you stay in my trailer? It's probably a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the couch."

Caleb smirked. "There's no way I'm giving up the couch for a small trailer."

I peeked at Toby. He was looking at Caleb distrustfully, his jaw clenched. My insides flipped over. Toby was still protecting me, even when we were broken up. Straightaway, a memory popped into my mind. It was a spring day in May, one of the many weekends Toby came out to Washington to see me. Three years later, and I could still remember every detail of it. He'd sprung for a hotel just for the two of us and had surprised me with a picnic lunch at Meridian Hill Park. Then later inside the hotel, while I studied for exams, Toby would kiss my neck and give me massages. I was happy the whole night, feeling as though I'd downed six glasses of bubbly champagne. And after sharing a romantic candlelit dinner together in our hotel room, Toby took me up to the balcony to watch the stars in the jewel-night sky and we made love. Tears came to my eyes.

And then my stomach rolled, breaking me away from the memory, and a wave of nausea overpowered me. I clamped a hand over my mouth.

"Spencer?" Toby furrowed his eyebrows together in concern. "Are you okay?"

I managed to nod, pushing down the vomit. "Yeah, I'm just feeling a little lightheaded."

"Let me get you some water." Toby wandered over to the kitchen to grab an empty cup from the overhead cabinet and then turned on the faucet. By the time he came back with a glass of water, Caleb had already left the room.

I took the glass from him gratefully and took a big sip. "Thanks."

"I should get going."

I pulled at the sleeve of his shirt. "No, don't. Please stay."

"Okay," Toby whispered, and I fell into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my body and held me close to him.

"I can sleep on the couch," he offered.

I shook my head. "No, Jason and Jess are sleeping in the guest room and Caleb will have nowhere to sleep. Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"Of course I will," he answered sweetly.

I took his hand and guided him into my bedroom. And even though there were clothes all over the floor and an open bottle of Vodka, Toby seemed content to be with me. We sat down on the bed. The mattress bounced beneath us slightly, and the down comforter was thick and fluffy.

Toby stared at me. "Spencer, what's going on?"

"Do you remember my criminology paper that I showed you?" When Toby nodded, I took a big, shaky breath and continued. "I wrote it after we broke up. And I think the person who killed Charles got the idea from my paper."

 _Here it goes,_ I thought. _Toby is going to hate me forever_.

But instead of getting angry like I thought he would, Toby entwined his fingers firmly through mine. "It's not your fault."

I shook my head, blinking back tears. "You don't know that. Somebody could have seen my paper and used it to fake Charles' suicide."

"No one thinks you had anything to do with Charles' death. Nobody could." He reached out to wipe the tears away from my eyes.

"But if someone is trying to set me up–"

"I'll protect you," he said automatically.

I stared into his eyes, seeing the truth in them. He would really do it.

"I'd die before I let anybody hurt you," Toby went on.

"I want you to kiss me," I whispered.

"I really want to," Toby whispered back.

He leaned closer and closer until our lips were almost touching. My veins jumped, thrilling at his closeness. I gently pushed his face away with my cheek so that our foreheads were pressed together; I didn't trust myself around him. I heard Toby swallow, and he brushed away a strand of my hair. The movement was so tender and loving that I could have melted right there.

Eventually, we changed the conversation to a lighter topic, not wanting to complicate things further. So Toby and I snuggled up to each other and spent the rest of the night talking. I told him about the time when I was nine, Melissa and I got into a huge fight and she tattled on me, and then my parents took her side like they always did. How I used to have nightmares of the Dollhouse after Charles kidnapped me. About the time I stole Melissa's AP Russian history paper that had gotten me nominated for a Golden Orchid award, the most prestigious high school essay contest in the country, for fear of losing my 4.0 average. Toby told me about how when he was little, he saw an injured baby bird in the middle of the road and broke his arm saving it when a car swerved and hit him. He told me about his mom's bird watching hobby and used to watch her feed them raspberries in the garden.

It was so easy to talk to Toby–I didn't have to pretend with him. I wished we could run away together to a faraway place like Paris and never come back. Being in Paris would be amazing. We'd live in a big, French villa by the river and eat nothing but cheese and bread, and drink wine for the rest of our lives.

When Toby and I were too tired to talk anymore, we dressed for bed. I changed into a pair of black pajama shorts that only covered my torso and a matching tank top, and Toby stripped down to his boxers. I salivated at his bare chest and broad shoulders. He turned around, stared, and his cheeks reddened. Was he feeling the same way as I was? Did he want me, too?

Tentatively, I climbed underneath my comforter and snuggled against his chest, trying to keep warm. Nothing made sense when I wasn't with Toby. And as I let the steady thudding of his heartbeat lull me to sleep in his arms, I suddenly didn't care if he had a new woman in his life.

Because I was deeply, madly, and passionately in love with him.


	3. Chapter 3

3\. Just Friends

Toby

"Wake up, handsome."

I opened my eyes to see Spencer kneeled on the bed, wearing nothing but a white, wet T-shirt. The fabric stuck to her luscious body, showing her naked breasts and taut stomach. I could see the lining of her lacy light-blue cheeky panties underneath. All I wanted to do was slide my hands underneath her shirt and touch her; she looked so delicious.

"Spencer," I murmured.

"Shhh," she purred.

Spencer crawled towards me and pressed her fingers lightly against my lips to silence me. A mysterious, seductive smile splayed across her lips.

Erotic excitement swam below my navel and then throbbed with anticipation, wondering what she was going to do to me. Spencer straddled my hips, pressing herself closer to me. I could feel the warmth of her skin against mine, her sweet breath on my face, could see the curve of her bare breasts. I brushed my fingers against the lace of her panties, in awe of Spencer's beauty. She was unreal.

Her nipples hardened through her wet shirt, and my pelvis throbbed. Slowly, I pushed Spencer's shirt up over her head, roaming my eyes over her, trying to memorize every inch of her to detail. She was in nothing but her panties now. My mouth hung open, spurred on by the intense desire to touch her. Spencer swallowed and her body was trembling in my arms, and I knew she wanted this as much as I did. This was it. There was no turning back now. We were both naked, every shield of armor protecting us shed away.

I lightly pressed my fingertipts to her lips, tracing the shape of it. Spencer parted them underneath my fingers and sucked, tasting me. With a moan, I dove for her beautiful breasts. I sucked on her nipples, rolling my tongue along each breast, licking the fullness of them. Spencer groaned, a low, guttural sound, making my member harden. I wanted to be inside her so badly.

My breath came out in a throaty moan. "Oh God, Spencer."

I grazed my nose along the curve of her breast. A low whimper escaped her lips. When I looked up into her eyes, I saw the deep lust reflecting back in mine.

Consumed with desire, I grasped Spencer's hips and flipped her over onto her back, gently climbing on top of her. I planted kisses down her body as I moved lower, reaching for the waistband of her underwear. Spencer sighed with pleasure and threw her arms over her head, squirming with need.

Deep desire pooled far below my belly. I traveled my lips along her stomach, then slowly slid her panties off her hips with my teeth, dragging them down until she was naked. Spencer gasped.

I took the panties in my hands, stood from the bed, and let them drop to the floor. Spencer's long legs were twisted to one side and her arms were draped above her head, revealing her curves and flat stomach in full view. She was so vulnerable and beautiful. My gaze wandered over her naked body, soaking up every inch of her.

Spencer watched as I slowly pushed down my boxer briefs from my lower waist and kicked them aside, and I was naked. A pleased smile whispered across her lips, as if she liked what she saw. I kneeled on the edge of the bed and crawled in between her legs, parting them gently.

I roamed my hands all over her naked body, tracing her curves, feeling every contour of her skin. She was so sexy and sultry.

Then I bent my head down and kissed Spencer deeply and slowly, trailing my lips wetly along her jawline to the side of her neck. Her lips parted in a wild gasp of pleasure and she tugged at my hair, pulling me closer to her. The heat of our mouths moving together infused my desire, our bodies sparking with powerful electricity beneath the sheets.

I braced my arms and legs on either side of her and pressed hard against her, the muscles in my back tightening with need. Spencer arched her back sexily against the mattress, and I kissed up her quivering stomach. When I moved inside her, a deep satisfaction filled my body and it was as if our souls were connected. We were being so vulnerable with each other, sharing one another this way.

Spencer's hips jerked from the bed as I rocked into her. "Oh, Toby!" she moaned.

She dug her fingers hard into my back and I grinded into her, moaning deeply. In that instant, Spencer snaked her legs around my waist and rolled us over until she was on top. Then she dropped down to my waist and dove for me. My lips parted in a breathless gasp.

Spencer dug her head in between my thighs, stroking and licking me with her tongue. I grabbed fistfuls of the sheets in my fingers and groaned, allowing the waves of pleasure to take over. And then I was calling out her name, begging, pleading for more.

"Spenceerrrrr!" I moaned.

I wrapped my legs around her head as Spencer tasted me, and she dug in deeper. I couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but her.

I awoke to the sound of my digital alarm clock blaring, and I realized I'd been dreaming. My hands were inside my boxers, wrapped around my hard member. I checked the sheets; they were wet, as I had suspected.

It was five in the morning, and I was greeted by the bright yellow sunlight that streamed in through the window. After I'd dropped Spencer off at her mother's house last night–she was staying in the barn with Jess and Caleb temporarily until the election was over–I must have collapsed on my bed and fallen asleep, exhausted from the tiring hours working on the Charles DiLaurentis murder case at the station.

I drowsily hit the snooze button on my alarm and rose from bed. When I opened the window–I had to push against it harder with my hands than normal to get it to budge–I felt the warm air on my skin. My body was alive and electric, and that scared me. Because the truth was, it wasn't the weather that had put me in such a good mood. It was because I knew I would see Spencer again.

With a groan, I took off the damp sheets from the bed and rolled them into a ball. I ran it under hot water and soap in the bathroom sink, as I usually did when things like this happened. Since Spencer came back to town, I'd been having sex dreams of her nearly every night. Then I changed into my workout clothes, prepared some French toast from the toaster, and brewed myself a cup of coffee. It was depressing to realize that I didn't get to share my breakfast with the woman I loved anymore.

Afterward, I went around back to the tarp that I'd set up in between the tree branches to do my regular push-ups for the day. I gripped the bars and pushed myself up, using the strength in my arms and back to keep a steady, fast pace. I could feel the muscles in my abdomen tightening and clenching with each push-up. By mid-morning, the temperature increased and my muscles had grown hot and tired, and a sheen of sweat covered my body. I pulled my white wife beater tank off over my head and pressed it to my face, soaking up all the sweat.

I worked out for an hour longer before showering, and then walked over to the shed that I'd just finished building on the property of the house. I grabbed my fishing pole, a couple of lures, and some worms that I kept frozen in the fridge. I walked down the trail to the creek, baited my hook, and cast my line.

As I waited for the fish to bite, I found my thoughts drifting back to my mother. After she died, I spent days in the big, empty house alone, often fending for myself while my father buried himself in his work. And as the months passed, he'd grown colder and more distant. When my father started seeing Pricilla Marshall, Jenna's mom, he took matters into his own hands. Every day after school, he made me come out to the training yard to teach me how to kick and punch correctly, despite all my protests of learning self-defense altogether. "It's time you became a man," he'd said to me. Once my father was satisfied with my training proficiency, he had me work on hauling and stacking wood for the winter months so that I could survive on my own. But when I took the blame for Jenna's accident, my dad said he wished he had a son.

Before she'd gotten sick, my mother would talk about birds and which types of trees they lived in, or play melodies to me from the piano. When I was thirteen, my mother was diagnosed with severe depression and I started drawing pictures for her from my sketchbook, hoping it would make her happy. By the following year, she started sleeping in bed all day, too depressed to get up and was admitted into Radley Sanitarium for treatment. But I went to the hospital every day just to see her, and I would read her favorite books of poetry to her as she rested in bed beside me.

Within a few months, my mother grew sicker and my visits to her became less frequent, as forced by my father. She died three years later and was buried in the Rosewood mausoleum. Occasionally I'd visit her grave there and leave hydrangea flowers, her favorite. And when I did, I would sit by her gravestone, thinking about my fondest memories of the mother who loved me more than I loved myself. Before Spencer, my mom had been the love of my life.

I'd spent days in my bedroom crying my eyes out, shutting myself off from people, too afraid to get hurt. The pain and loss of my mother was crippling. All I wanted was for her to hold me in her arms and tell me everything was alright in the world again. But she never did. My mom was dead.

I didn't let anyone in until _her_. I was eight-years-old the first time I saw her. She had been inside the upstairs window of the house across the street from mine, as clear as if the sparkling sun had shown her to me. The girl was tall and slender, with long dark hair that partially obscured her face as she sat in the red leather chair by the window, concentrating on reading the book in her hands. That face–I couldn't take my eyes off her. A lovely, slim face, kind chocolate-brown eyes, pointed chin, pink plump lips, flawless ivory skin. I'd never seen anything so beautiful.

We were so close–with me standing just behind the glass of my first-story bedroom window, and the girl sitting just inside the house next to mine, looking down. I continued to watch her from afar, intrigued. The girl's slender and pretty hands moved as she turned the page in her book, her brow furrowed with seriousness.

And I was filled with the strongest feeling of a connection, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. I kept thinking if the girl would only look up, then something amazing would happen. A wave of longing swept over me, and I felt tongue-tied just looking at her gorgeous face.

I yearned to meet her, wanting to know the mysteries of this girl. But I knew I would never get the courage to walk up to the girl and talk to her. Anyone that beautiful and smart undoubtedly was popular with loads of friends. She came from a world of privilege that went far beyond my orbit for our spheres to even touch, and that was the brutal truth. Still, I couldn't ignore the crushing disappointment.

I had to find out her name. I had to know her. I wasn't the type to chase after a girl before, but there was something about this one that drew me to her, a magnetic pull that I couldn't ignore. She pulled something out of me that I couldn't explain. I didn't even know how to talk to this girl. I thought I'd never see her again, but I was wrong.

The girl in the window had been Spencer. My Spencer.

After that, I'd watch her through my bedroom window, gazing at her from afar. Always so close, yet too far away. Spencer loved to read books in her spare time, and when she wasn't doing that, she'd be upstairs to her room alone, studying or drawing pictures in her notebook. The bubble of longing swelled bigger and bigger until I thought my chest would explode.

When Spencer and I started dating, she had to sneak out of the house to meet me at our special place at the rock on the little hill overlooking Rosewood just so we could be together, stealing moments when no one was looking. The town and our parents didn't approve of our relationship, and they did everything they could to keep us apart. Her parents despised me–they thought I was dangerous, a bad boy. And it wasn't just that they didn't like me; I came from a lower class, was never good enough, and I didn't have a high-standing with the prestigious stone-gated country club where they belonged. And Veronica and Peter Hastings would never approve of Spencer being with someone like me. At the same time, though, I understood their perception. They didn't want their daughter to be seen with the town's pariah; they were just trying to protect her. But Spencer and I were in love and we didn't care what our parents thought. We wanted to be together no matter what.

But despite conquering everything that A put us through, our strong love for each other wasn't enough. By early September, Spencer went away to college in Georgetown, where she was studying to be an architect designer. We'd made plans to move there together and rent an apartment close by the university, but my boss, Lieutenant Tanner, wouldn't allow it. She'd said I would be removed from the Police Force if I moved away. The morning Spencer left, I'd said to her, "You may be moving to Georgetown, we may be in different places now, but my feelings for you will never change. I know we can make this work because I love you and I always will." But when Spencer was finishing her midterms before winter break, something happened that would change our lives forever. We were both given a difficult choice. After I flew out to Georgetown to see Spencer, she was acting different. She was distant, cold. I could feel her slipping away and that scared me. I knew I was losing her, yet I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye. In my panic, I'd left her there alone in her dorm room to cry in her state of shock and fear.

Eventually, I went back to work and buried myself in cases so I wouldn't think of Spencer. My time at the Harrisburg Police Academy had toughened me, and I worked hard. Even when I got passed over for the detective position, it still felt good knowing I was making a difference in the world, serving and protecting Pennsylvania. Not only did it give my life purpose, but being a cop was something I felt I had to do.

Though I continued to think about Spencer every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to bed. I wrote her a letter every week, but for reasons I couldn't understand, she never replied. I wrote one final letter to her, facing the harsh reality that the only thing we'd ever share was our past. And I started to wonder if what we had was real.

Since my mom died I never let anyone get close to me, until Spencer came into my world. From the moment I fell in love with her, she'd changed my life forever. Nothing in life was perfect, but what I had with Spencer was perfect.

I tried to forget my feelings for her, but no matter what I did, she was still with me. I saw Spencer everywhere I went. I saw her on the rock atop the hill, our place, every time I walked by. When I was inside my truck, I saw her sitting beside me, resting her head against my shoulder as I drove.

I liked living in Rosewood, but it reminded me of when we were together, bringing back memories and old feelings. I saw Spencer's face when I went to the Apple Rose Grille, or when I walked past the movie theatre. Spencer was my first love, and she would forever have my heart. Two weeks after my anguishing breakup with Spencer, I tried to see her at Georgetown. I went to her dorm, and after talking to a girl who said was her roommate, she turned me away. I tried to see Spencer again on multiple occasions, but her roommate was adamant on keeping me out. I didn't hear from Spencer again, and I was often left worrying about how she was doing, wondering if she missed me as much as I missed her.

A month later, while I was out for my morning run, I saw a FOR SALE sign for twenty acres of empty land a few miles outside of Rosewood and bought the property. I went to the hardware store the next day to buy the necessary supplies to build a house, determined to win Spencer back. I started drawing out the outline and interior of the house we'd always dreamed about having on the blueprints, fantasizing about our future together.

I sat at the creek a few more minutes before packing up the fishing gear and putting everything away in the shed. When I got home, I took out a beer from the refrigerator and headed toward the house to think about Spencer.

Spencer

Thursday morning, I laid back against the full foam spa-bed mattress in between Hanna and Jess in the spa at The Radley Hotel, and Emily was lying down on the opposite side, trying my best to relax. The fresh cucumbers covering my eyes felt cool and the room smelled of jasmine. Today we were having a girls' spa day, but when Hanna invited Aria to join us, too, she had quickly told her she was busy. The exfoliating seaweed wrap I'd just had 80 minutes ago was supposed to make me feel _less_ stressed, but I couldn't stop thinking about the events of the last few days.

After Aria left town claiming she needed to go back to her job in Boston, Hanna, Jess, Emily and I had discovered a darker side to her. And when we saw hotel security footage of Aria leaving the hotel an hour before Charles was killed, it had only confirmed my worst fears. Aria had sworn that she went back to the hotel after seeing Charles that night, but I couldn't get past the fact that she'd kept such a dangerous secret from the rest of us. It made me wonder what else she was hiding.

"I've never had a salt rub," I heard Emily say to Hanna. "Does it hurt?"

"Can't be worse than a sugar wax," Hanna responded.

"That's what you're worried about?" Jess said incredulously.

"Why didn't she meet us here?" I asked, referring to Aria's absence.

Hanna sighed. "Spencer, let it go."

"Why lie?" I went on, ignoring her. "Why not just say, 'I snuck out to go meet Ezra'?"

"She's got a boyfriend in Cambridge," Emily pointed out.

"Oh, please," I replied snippily. "This is about so much more than that. If we had never told her about that, if we had never told her about that security tape–"

"This is so not relaxing," Hanna interrupted.

"Hanna, the police didn't ask us to stick around to exfoliate. There are going to be questions."

Emily immediately jumped to Aria's defense. "Aria doesn't know where Ezra went after she left him."

"That should be enough of a reason to suspect her," Jess insisted.

"Yeah, and she knows he was in a dark place," I added.

"Just cause you're depressed doesn't mean you pick up a weapon," Emily disagreed.

Hanna sounded tired. "Okay, you guys, my mom gave us these passes as a gift. We're here to chill, not spill."

"It's just so twisted," I said, shivering. "She hasn't even spoken to Fitz in, like, five years and now if he did this for her they're gonna be bound together forever."

"And who knows what else," Jess mumbled.

I caught the true meaning behind her words and cringed. "Jess!" I shrieked. "You are, like, the opposite of helping."

"Not because of the tape," Hanna continued. "It's gone."

Jess, Emily and I quickly sat up on the mattress, making the cucumbers to fall off our faces. I stared at Hanna, stunned, not sure I'd heard her right.

Emily gaped at her. "What? You erased it? When?"

"Are you crazy?" Jess snapped.

"It doesn't matter. It's done." Hanna paused. "What do you guys think this room was before they turned the nut house into a spa?"

"Why?" Emily asked.

"The sauna smelled like burned hair."

I tensed, wondering where the old patient rooms used to be. Toby's mother had been a patient here. But the idea that there could have been a fire at Radley was too horrible to think about. Immediately, Emily, Jess and I stood up.

"Okay, that's it," I announced, heading for the door. "I'm done chilling."

Hanna sat up. "Wait! What are you guys doing?"

"I'm gonna get dressed," I told her. "Jess and I have to meet with Melissa. We have a meeting with my mom's campaign team."

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "I think I wanna go, too."

"Hanna, I want to decompress, but not in a former torture chamber," Jess said right after.

"Well, we can't leave," Hanna wailed. "We have appointments! You can't do this."

Jess gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, Han."

The three of us left the room, walking out through the bamboo-wooden door to the hall. Why was Hanna dredging up old memories, anyway? Being here brought me right back to where I was during those horrible three days I'd been committed at Radley.

When I turned at the corner, I slipped behind the drapes of the dressing room and took off my white fluffy hotel bathrobe, letting it fall to the floor. I snatched up my clothes from the linen cubby on the bench and quickly got dressed. The dressing room's fluorescent lights made me feel exposed

My Carven dress felt tight, but it didn't feel right. It felt itchy and uncomfortable. I examined myself in the mirror. The top part of the dress was cut off in a long-sleeved black sweater, and the light-blue skirt tied around my waist with a drawstring fell just above my knees. It made my chest look small and flat, and the short length of the material revealed too much of my long legs. My dark-brown hair was frizzy, and my pale skin looked red and blotchy. I was supposed to be representing a smart, put-together politician's daughter, not a sloppy whore.

Jess emerged from her dressing room a minute later in a pretty burgundy dress and black suede ankle boots. It hurt just to look at her. "Hey. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." I mustered up the teeniest smile that I could, feeling like the biggest fraud on the planet.

Jess

That same afternoon, I walked up to the Hastings' barn, the early September breeze lightly teasing the tendrils of my hair. Spencer was meeting with Gil, the manager of Veronica's campaign team, at City Hall to prep for our interview later today at Hollis College with the press about her mom's campaign.

As I strode through the French doors, I saw Caleb and Spencer's older sister, Melissa, in the living room. Caleb was sitting at the pine-oak kitchen table in front of his laptop, working on the campaign website, and he held a mug of coffee in his hand. I glanced over at Melissa standing by the doorway. Melissa was tall and had pretty, long dark hair like Spencer, but her face looked more angular while Spencer's was delicate and pointed. She wore natural Sephora makeup, and was wearing a black and white polka dot button-up blouse, a brown cardigan, and blue jeans.

Melissa looked surprised to see him. "Oh, I forgot you were camping out here," she said, glancing at the disheveled couch.

"Yeah, me and the other water bugs," Caleb joked. "Where's Spencer?"

"She's just finishing up the strategy session with Gil," she answered.

Melissa wandered over to the cherry-wooden dresser by my bedroom, and Caleb quickly stood up from the table and followed. "Hey, what about her, uh, college paper? How did they react to that?"

"They asked her to adjust her interview style." Melissa started rifling through piles of clothes in the top drawer, looking distracted. "I know I had more clothes in here."

Just then, the door opened and Spencer came in. She'd changed into a long-sleeved black sweater dress with a marine-blue elasticated drawstring skirt at the waist, a pair of black Michael Kors heels, and she had a brown leather Luis Vuitton backpack slung over her shoulders.

Caleb's eyes lit up when he saw her. "Hey."

A blush rose to Spencer's cheeks as she rushed past him angrily. "Hi."

"How did it go?" I asked her,

"Not good," Spencer sighed. "They asked me to lie."

She took off her backpack and leaned against the tall coffee table to unstrap her heels. All morning, Spencer had been in a foul mood, grumbling about true love being a lie and seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face. I wondered if it had anything to do with seeing Toby again. Being back here must have brought back old memories. Or…maybe it was something else. I suddenly remembered the time I'd driven down to Georgetown to see Spencer and my stomach clenched up. It had happened sophomore year of college. I was in the Yale library studying for my mid-semester finals when Spencer called me. She'd been hysterical, sobbing about Toby and the mistake she thought they'd made. When Toby finally rushed down to Washington, he'd been so worried and scared. If I had known that moment would've changed the course of our lives forever, if I'd known it was going to end up the way it had, I probably would have done things differently. I hadn't thought of that day in a long time.

"I should have gone with you," I said to Spencer guiltily, snapping myself out of the memory.

"They don't want you to lie," Melissa interrupted.

"Okay, they want me to use a non-denial denial," Spencer corrected. She made a dramatic gesture with her hands to emphasize her irritation.

A disapproving look passed over Caleb's face. "So lying."

"Yeah." Spencer's lips twitched up into a half, humorless smile.

"If you can avoid addressing certain things, you should." Melissa saw Spencer's bare feet and looked at her sternly. "No, don't take off your shoes. We have to be at Hollis in thirty minutes."

Caleb frowned. "What is this Hollis thing? Gil asked me to post about it."

"It's registering college kids to vote to try to reverse the political apathy of our youth," I told him.

"That's noble," he said to Spencer.

"It's really not," she said, bending over to pull her heels back on. "It's a photo-op for the candidate's children who are _starving_." Spencer drew out the word starving in a sarcastic tone.

I rolled my eyes at Caleb. "If you had been keeping up with the campaign's emails, you would know that."

Caleb snorted. "Sorry, I don't speak nerd."

"I don't speak psychotic creep," I retorted.

He turned to Spencer, pretending I wasn't there, and generously handed her his coffee mug. "Okay, well, I'll make you some eggs. Uh, do you want some toast?"

Spencer brightened, using the persuasive power of her wide brown puppy eyes on him. "Oh my god, please. Burned?"

"That's the only way I make it. I'm gonna go steal some stuff from the campaign headquarters."

Spencer took a sip of the coffee. "Mm."

As he turned to leave, Melissa glanced between Caleb and Spencer suspiciously. "When did _that_ happen?"

Spencer looked confused. "What? Caleb? We're just friends."

Melissa looked skeptical. "Really? Cause I know how you like to shop out of other people's carts."

"Leave her alone," I hissed. "Spencer would never do that to Hanna."

"If you're referring to Hanna, that cart is engaged to someone else." Spencer turned away from Melissa and reached for her backpack, gathering her things together. "It really doesn't matter because there's nothing going on."

Melissa studied Spencer, trying to read her body language from her turned back. "Maybe you're more comfortable with lying than you think."

Something flickered in Spencer's eyes that I couldn't identify. The flames of my anger boiled up inside me. I knew Spencer and Caleb had grown closer over the years, but there was no way she'd ever date him, even if she did have feelings for him. Ex-boyfriends were strictly off-limits. How dare Melissa bring up Spencer's previous hookup with Wren as an excuse to shame her!

As Melissa turned for my bedroom where she was staying temporarily, I followed her inside. "Hey, that was uncalled for."

Melissa turned around, looking confused. "What?"

Irritation rippled through me. "Don't pretend like this wasn't some attack on Spencer."

Melissa gave me a motherly smile. "I don't know what you think is going on, but I'm only trying to look out for Spencer."

"You're looking out for yourself," I spat. "Spencer is my friend and I am not going to let you treat her this way."

"You don't know her like I do."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say it's not the first time Spencer has stolen someone else's boyfriend," she said nastily.

"If you're talking about Wren, that wasn't Spencer's fault," I told her. "He kissed her, not the other way around."

Melissa gave me a tiny-eyebrow raise, clearly indicating she didn't agree. "It certainly didn't stop her from seeing Ian."

I frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought she would've told you of all people," Melissa simpered.

"Know what?" My voice rose a few octaves higher.

"Spencer kissed Ian when we were dating in high school. But after we broke up, they started seeing each other. He told me when we were married." Melissa had a faraway look in her eyes as if she was remembering something from a long time ago, and there was a hurt expression on her face.

My heart softened. In 10th grade, Melissa had married her old high school boyfriend, Ian Thomas, leading the girls to suspect it was only a cover-up for Ian killing Alison. Only, when they discovered his dead body rotting in the old barn, it became clear that Ian was _not_ the last person to see Alison alive. Melissa's breakup with Ian must have really devastated her, or maybe it was finding out that her true love had been murdered. I may not have always liked Melissa, but I never wanted her to suffer.

I stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"Spencer goes for the bad boy." She sighed. "I guess we have more in common than I realized. First Ian, then Wren. Now she's going after Caleb, too. But when Spencer and Toby were together, I thought she finally found someone good for her."

"Yeah, me too," I said quietly.

At that very moment, Melissa turned very slowly and gave me a dark look. "But if Caleb ever takes advantage of Spencer or hurts her in any way, I will make him regret it for the rest of his life."

Spencer

When Jess and I finally arrived at the Hollis College campus, we scampered up the steps of the main building for our interview with Damian Hayes, the reporter from the _Rosewood Observer_. Students swarmed around us in the hallway, rushing off to their classes. On the lobby wall were brightly colored flyers of art student exhibits, bake sale announcements, and want ads for housemates.

Gil had asked Jess and I to volunteer at one of the registration tables in the auditorium for the Hollis College voting fair in the hopes of increasing voter turnout in the election. My mom was trying to appeal to the younger generation, and with any luck, the fundraiser she was holding this Thursday at City Hall would help strengthen her campaign.

I followed Jess as we climbed up the stairs. The auditorium where Damien had scheduled the interview was brightly lit and bigger than I'd expected. There were long voting tables in the center of the room with neatly stacked piles of registration forms and a big colorful sign was hung up above in the background, encouraging people to vote in the upcoming senator election. The place was packed. It seemed like everyone from Rosewood was here today–Hollis students, kids from the private schools, plus Christine Phillips' rival voters who poured money into Steven Kahn's judiciary House.

We found an empty registration table near the front door and started to set up, unpacking boxes of registration voter forms and clipboards. Then Jess and I stood behind the table and flashed huge, bright smiles at all the Hollis students passing by.

"Are you registered to vote?" I asked a small girl who had short, inky black hair and three eyebrow rings.

"Come to Veronica Hastings City Hall fundraiser next Thursday night." Jess handed a flyer to a guy wearing a Hollis baseball team sports jacket.

"Vote for Veronica Hastings!" I called out to a group of girls toting Chanel designer bags.

I felt Jess' eyes on me and turned to her, noting her pensive expression that ranged from concern to fear.

"What?" I asked.

Jess shook her head. "It's nothing."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me." I waited. Our matching tight-fitting T-shirts, which said VOTE on the front, clung to Jess' average, but appealing chest. What made it more irritating was that she seemed completely oblivious to her natural good looks.

Jess pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. "I just wanted to say that you shouldn't worry about Melissa. I know you would never do that to Hanna."

I stared at her in confusion. "Do what?"

"Date Caleb. I mean, he is her ex after all."

"Right." I paused, pondering over my conversation with Melissa this morning.

I'd been wondering about my feelings for Caleb ever since our moment inside the barn the night of Alison's dinner, and I couldn't get it out of my head. The way his full bottom lip trembled when I backed away, knowing he wanted to kiss me. His dark, intense eyes gazing into my own. And how when our hands touched, an electric current seemed to flow through us.

My brain screamed questions at me. Why was I now regretting not leaning in to kiss him? Why couldn't I stop thinking about him? And what did it mean that I couldn't? That I couldn't seem to get enough of his witty humor and soulful eyes, and enjoyed his infectious company?

"But would that be so terrible?" I asked.

Jess frowned at me sternly. "Spencer, he's Hanna's ex-boyfriend. Dating Caleb would be like if Hanna dated Toby. Remember that rule we made years ago, about how we would never date each other's exes? Because it would ruin our friendships?"

"Yeah, you're right," I quickly agreed, wanting to kick myself for saying such idiotic things out loud. Caleb probably had tons of girls to hang out with who weren't abrasive and pushy.

"Spencer Hastings," I heard a voice from behind me say.

Jess and I both turned around at the same time as a tall, lanky guy with dark-brown, cropped wavy hair and mocha-colored eyes came up to us. He extended his hand out to me. "I'm Damian Hayes, the reporter of the _Rosewood Observer_. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I answered.

Then he turned and shook hands with Jess. "I'd like to ask you two some questions about the election."

Jess smiled politely. "Sure."

Damian gestured to the empty table next to us. "Is here okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Damian sat down on top of the table and pulled out a small silver tape recorder from his messenger bag. "So, I'm just going to ask you some questions about you and your mother. Nothing to worry about."

I tensed. Gil had warned me that something like this might happen. When I'd met with him earlier this morning to discuss my interview strategy, he'd suggested I refrain from mentioning my old criminology essay from college. Because according to Gil, my paper was the last straw that would break the camel's back. He'd gone through what questions I was going to be asked, how I should respond, and how I should and shouldn't act. It didn't seem that much different from performing a part in a play, pretending to be someone I wasn't.

Damian pressed a button on the recorder. "Let's begin. Why did your mother decide to run for State Senator?"

"Because she cares about other people," I answered. "She wanted to run because she was inspired by the work I had done in Washington D.C."

"What's your take on that?" he asked. "Why is the turnout of millennial voters so sluggish?"

"Well, most young people don't have a permanent address, it's very difficult for them to register," I explained.

Damian turned to Jess. "Jess, how do you feel about Veronica Hastings running for senator with your dad's position on the State Police Force?"

"I feel very confident that she would help the Pennsylvania State Law Enforcement by increasing funding towards public safety," Jess answered. "My dad loves helping people and he believes that Veronica is someone who can make Pennsylvania a safer place with her as senator."

"And you don't think Christine Phillips can?"

She shook her head. "No. Christine cares more about profit than she does about the people in this town. I've known Veronica for a long time and she has the biggest, most caring heart of anyone I've ever met. She was there for me and my mom when she got diagnosed with breast cancer."

"What about when your step-father was sent to prison for the abuse of you and your mother?" he questioned. "Being part of the campaign must have put you in the limelight."

Jess grimaced. "My position on the campaign team has nothing to do with my family. I'm not doing this for the limelight, I'm doing it for my friend and because I believe in her mother's cause."

Satisfied, Damian turned back to me. "So Spencer, are you sticking around Rosewood solely for your mom, or are there other things keeping you here? The death of Charles DiLaurentis must have thrown you."

Instantly, it all became clear that I'd been lying to myself of my reason for staying in Rosewood: It wasn't only for my mother's campaign, but I didn't want to admit it to myself until now. I was staying for Toby. Because I was still in love with him. That's why I couldn't bare the thought of leaving Rosewood. I knew things were different now, but I had to be with him.

And there was more: my questions about Caleb started to make sense now. About why I couldn't seem to stay away from him. Because he was much more than just a friend. Somewhere between Spain and the last three years, I'd developed a minuscule crush on Caleb, but I didn't want anything to happen with him. It was just a phase. And it was wrong; it would only hurt the two people I loved most, Toby and Hanna. Something had happened to us the weekend we'd spent together in Spain that changed our relationship forever. I liked him, much more than I should. It was an attraction that both terrified and thrilled me. I'd tried to deny it for so long, scared of how Caleb made me feel. And yet, it still wasn't enough to change how I felt about Toby. It never would.

I didn't care about my newfound crush; I cared about Toby and Hanna, who would suffer the most from this. I would rather hurt myself than ever be the cause of their pain. I made a silent vow inside my head, promising myself to never act on my feelings for Caleb.

In that moment, I could feel Toby, every muscle, every emotion, every breath tangling with my own. It was as though we were the same person. His pain was my pain, his joy was my joy. He had been and always would be a part of me. I knew with every fiber of my being that Toby was my soulmate.

"Yes, and how could it not?" I finally answered. "This person had a huge impact on my life. And it does take time to process an upsetting event before one can move on."

"Charles took a lot from all of us," Jess volunteered.

"I'm surprised you'd use the word upsetting," Damian said to me. "Most people on social media assume that you're celebrating."

"Well, the media's gonna create the narrative they wanna tell."

"So you object to that narrative?" he probed.

"No," I disagreed, "what I object to are people who are desperate to find a connection. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

Then I noticed Hanna standing by the door across the room, wearing a Gucci coral shiny blazer, a white leaf print tank top, and a long white denim skirt. Jess looked to where I was staring at and her eyes widened.

"Can you excuse us for just a moment?" I asked Damian.

He nodded. "Sure."

I took Jess' hand and led her over to where Hanna stood. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

There was an anxious expression on her face. "My mom's in trouble."

Jess crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean she's in trouble?"

The worried lines in Hanna's forehead creased. "Lorenzo knows the tape was erased, alright? So you have to ask your mom–"

"No," I said quickly. "My mom's not an attorney right now, she's a candidate. I cannot ask her anything and I can't talk to you right now. I'm in the middle of an interview." I felt a surge of irritation. Why did Hanna have to make this so complicated? Why couldn't she just leave things alone?

Hanna stared at me intensely. "Spencer, the police have a list of everyone who stayed at the hotel that night. Someone was murdered and you're gonna get questioned. We all are."

"Guys, can we talk about this later?" Jess cut in, "It's already bad enough that the police are breathing down our necks. We can't have the press talking about us, too."

"Jess is right," I said. "We have to get back."

Setting her jaw, Hanna turned away from us curtly and left the auditorium. Jess and I walked back to our registration table, where Damian was still waiting for us. Jess took her place behind the table and continued handing out flyers to people, ignoring Damian altogether.

"Hey, I'm so sorry about that," I apologized.

But Damian's eyes were focused on the spot where Hanna had been just moments before. "Wasn't that one of the girls from the bunker? Is she still in town because of Charles?"

I clenched my jaw. "You know what, I think that maybe I should just get back to registering the students."

"Wait," Damian pleaded. "Just one more question."

"No, I'm sorry," I replied angrily. "We really don't have time. We're only here to spread the message." I forced a fake smile onto my face, narrowing my eyes at him. "Be inspired to create the future that you imagine by voting. Thank you."

Jess turned around to fix him with a death-cold glare. "I think we've answered enough of your questions for one day. Take your spy equipment and get the hell out."

As Damien walked away, I felt my chest ache with loneliness. I missed Toby, especially now in light of what was happening with Charles' murder and the election. I missed his patience and understanding when I'd vent to him about how I thought my family never loved me, when he whispered sweetly in my ear that he loved me and how beautiful I was, how attentive and caring he was to me, and the feeling of his hand holding mine.

I wanted Toby back.

Later that afternoon, I drove my Toyota Highlander up the dirt pathway to the construction site just as I had the last time I was here. I parked the car in the same spot and stepped out. Toby met me halfway, smiling radiantly at me with a face so beautiful it almost knocked me off my feet.

A pair of jeans hung low on his hips, but his chest was bare, and he was wearing the same boots as he had a few days ago. His smooth skin was bronzed from the sun, he had a little scruff on his chin and jaw from days without shaving, and his perfectly wavy dark-brown hair was even more tousled today. I wanted to run my fingers through it. At the sight of Toby, it was hard not to gawk at his perfectly formed abs, the muscles carving uninterrupted over the hard contours of his stomach and chest. He looked like such a perfect image of a Greek God that it made my stomach hurt. There was no way this beautiful boy wanted me.

Today I wore a black lace camisole and denim shorts, paired with Jess' black flat converse shoes I'd stolen out of her closet. After I'd finished helping Jess at the voting registration table at Hollis, I rushed back home to change, anxious to see Toby.

"Hi," he said. His eyes gleamed.

"Hi," I said back, my heart beating faster.

I kissed him gently on the cheek, lingering my hand at his waist. Toby's blue eyes bored into mine with surprise.

I blushed. "Sorry, I don't know why I did that."

Instead of answering, Toby caught a lock of hair that had fallen in front of my face and tucked it behind my ear. My breath quickened. It was excruciating to be this close to him while he was shirtless and not be able to touch him. I didn't think it was possible to feel any more attracted to him. If anything, my feelings for Toby had grown stronger, more intense, drawing me back to him like a moth to a flame.

"So," I started, "what's on the agenda for today?"

Toby smiled. "I thought we could get started on the wiring."

"Sounds perfect."

We walked to the house together, our hands accidently bumping against each other. When we reached the house, Toby led me over to an opened toolshed with an underground generator inside. Then he went to the worktable and grabbed a pair of pliers and some wire cutters.

I looked at the toolshed, marveling at the fine wood and the detailed structure. It was painted a soft yellow with stark white interiors, had small double-paneled windows on either side, a gable roof, and there was even a little raised porch surrounded by some potted plants. The door was colored a seafoam-green and a couple of flower boxes outside the windows were full of lavender flowers.

"It's nice," I noted. "Did you make it yourself?"

Toby flushed. "Uh, yeah. It's not finished, though. I still have to put down some soil and gravel, and some plants and trees for the yard."

He stepped inside the unfinished house, heading toward the wall outlets, and I followed him. The flooring and the walls had been done in oak, and a bucket of plaster sat at the southwest end of the house where the living room was supposed to be. Red and black wires ran up the length of the open walls, ready for the wire installation for the power outlets. As I cut the wires for him, Toby pressed the wires together with the pliers and heated them with a welding torch.

Toby and I worked in silence for a little bit, but when I paused to gaze at his face, I noticed the changes in him. He was a man now, and he had facial hair on his face. His skin had tightened over the strong bones, hardened somehow, and his soulful blue eyes had lost its innocence. I watched Toby as he spread the plaster on the inside of the wall, and I saw the muscles in his arm flex. God, he looked good.

Sweat dripped down Toby's chest to the maze of lines on his abdomen, disappearing underneath the waistband of his jeans. I could feel Toby's hot breath on my skin from his dangerously close proximity to me, could see the sweat prickling along his chest appealingly. The electric current that seemed to originate from somewhere in his body never failed to lessen its intensity. And suddenly it felt like I was engulfed in flames, exploding into a million sparks from his buzzing response to me. A sexual energy palpitated between us, crackling with electricity at its highest peak, and I was compelled with the strong desire to jump his bones right this instant.

"You're quite handy with a welding torch," I complimented.

Toby chuckled. "I'm glad my handiness impresses you."

"Were you trying to impress me?"

"Maybe." Toby looked away quickly, but I thought I saw a faint pink color his cheeks.

I looked around at the structure of the house. "How long did it take to build this?"

He looked up from troweling a scoop of plaster into the wall. "About a year."

I nodded. So that's why he was working so hard on it. Toby had started building the house right after we'd broken up. It stung to know that he had moved on and was building a future with someone else.

"I always wanted to put down roots somewhere in a small town," he continued. "To start a family. It's a lot of work, and most nights I stay up sawing and hammering."

"Why are you working so hard on this?"

"I just want to get it done," Toby answered automatically. I stared at him, wondering if I believed him. There was something in his tone that suggested he was lying.

I traced my fingers along the age lines in the wooden planks. "So is it just you who works on the house?"

"Caleb helps out sometimes, but mostly it's just me. When I found out someone was selling the land outside of Rosewood, I used the money I got from my mother's lawsuit to buy it, and the tools and supplies to build a house."

I turned away, and an awkward silence passed over us.

After a minute, I broke the silence. "Do you ever think about us?" I asked quietly. "What we could've been?"

"Every day." Toby's eyes held mine, and I stared back.

"What do you imagine?" I whispered.

"I imagine us living in a house somewhere and we'll live there for the rest of our lives until we grow old and move into a senior home together. And we'll sit on the front porch, watching our two children running around in the front yard while you're pregnant with our third. Because we will have three kids. And we'll get a puppy because we both wanted one. And we'll be happy."

When Toby was finished, I realized there were tears in my eyes. "I miss that picture."

"It's not too late. We can still have that." He paused. "Do you think we can start over?"

I stared at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean with us, get back to the way we were."

I didn't answer right away. "I don't know. I mean, it's been so long and we've both changed. We've grown."

"It hasn't changed how I feel about you," he insisted passionately. "Spencer, I've spent the last three years of my existence trying to figure out how to live without you and I can't. I tried pretending like it doesn't hurt, that I don't care. I thought if I acted like I was over you, then I would be. But I don't think I ever will get over you. The truth is, all I want to do is pour my heart out to the woman I love."

I thought about leaving Rosewood and Toby, and an overwhelming feeling of agony hit me with powerful force.

"It's been hard for me, too," I admitted. "It's killing me. But I know we'll always be connected, our lives will forever be intertwined."

Toby reached for his bag on the floor and pulled out a navy-blue sweatshirt, pushing his arms through the sleeves. When he lifted his arms to pull the shirt over his head, my eyes fixated on the muscles in his back bunching up together. I hadn't stopped thinking about his torso since the night we'd slept in bed together.

I swallowed. "Um, isn't it a little warm out to be wearing a sweater?"

"Let's go for a walk." Toby stood up and extended his hand to me, waiting.

When he said it, I knew it was because he cared about me and wanted to spend more time with me, even if he was unsure whether I reciprocated his feelings.

"I'd love to." I smiled and took his hand.

Toby led the way toward the woods about fifty feet away. We walked for several minutes before turning onto a flat path near the creek. I moved a little closer to him than I should have, anxious not to waste a second of the time we had together. As he held my hand, I let him entwine his fingers through mine, warming my insides from his touch.

I peeked at Toby. When I dated guys back in D.C., they could never live up to the kind of traits I yearned for in a partner. Things like intelligence, kindness and caring, trusting, strength, passion, handy, and loving. Toby had all those traits, and it wasn't a coincidence. He was handsome, sweet, stubbornly inclined to do the right thing even when it was hard, and he was the smartest person I'd ever known.

I wasn't interested in one-night stands or sleeping around with a bunch of guys. That wasn't who I was. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend. I was looking for a husband, someone who I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with. And Toby was that guy.

Today, the forest was quiet and peaceful, and as Toby and I strolled through the canopy of redwood trees in the woods, I was struck with the thought that he was the person that I'd like to marry someday. I knew it was too soon to be thinking this and we've both been through so much, but somewhere in my heart I knew with absolute certainty that Toby was The One.

"What are you thinking?" I heard him ask.

A light breeze rippled through my hair, and I pushed the stray strands out of my face. "I was thinking about how much I enjoy spending time with you."

His perfect lips curved up at the corners into a beautiful smile. "I enjoy spending time with you, too. More than you know."

"Do you really mean that?" I asked.

"Yes." I could hear the complete sincerity in his voice when he spoke.

Then Toby turned at a fork in the trail, gently pulling me with him.

"So what's next for you in Washington?" he asked. "You said you were a lobbyist for the equal rights of children."

I stared straight ahead at the forest spread out in front of us, resisting the urge to kiss him. "I am. We're part of the Americans organization for the protection of children."

"I love that you're trying so hard to help people with your career," Toby said. "I think it's really noble."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You don't sound very happy about it."

"It's a great organization and it gives me the chance to make a difference and help people," I recited.

Toby studied me. "But you don't want to be there."

Toby seemed to know exactly what I was feeling and thinking, which was unnerving and gave me a sense of comfort all at the same time. With Toby, he always knew when I was telling the truth and when I was lying. I could be myself with him.

"I wanted to be an interior designer like I had planned and there was this amazing designer job in Georgetown, but my dad really wanted me to be a politician. When my mom told us she was running for senator, being a lobbyist just made sense at the time." I could feel Toby watching me as we walked, but I couldn't meet his gaze, too afraid to see his disappointment.

Toby pressed his lips together, as if he was considering his words carefully. "You don't have to do what your parents want."

"I know you're disappointed in me."

Toby stopped to face me. "Spencer, I could never be disappointed in you. I'm so proud of you."

I met his eyes. "You are?"

"Of course I am. You're the strongest woman I know."

I smiled faintly. "Thanks."

We both fell silent, and I looked toward the bubbling creek flowing through the middle of the forest nearby. Finally, I broke the silence.

"What about you?" I asked the question carefully, worried he was going to bring up the mystery girl.

"I don't do much except for work on the house and solve cases," Toby said.

Relief passed through me. "Like with Charles?"

"Yeah." His face turned hard as he stared at me, searching for something in my expression for the answer. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

My brain stalled. I wanted to tell Toby the truth so badly, but I couldn't. It was already bad enough that everyone else thought I was happy about Charles' death, if I told Toby I was there at the hotel the night that Charles was killed, he'd hate me for keeping it from him. Maybe he'd even blame me for Charles' death. That I'd been there and hadn't done anything about it.

And then there was Aria. She had been so angry that day in the courtroom. She wanted to hurt Charles after what he did to her in the Dollhouse. What if Aria really had done it? What if she'd killed Charles? I couldn't stop thinking about the moment when she'd said: _I don't want Charles released. Ever_. But then I remembered how sweet and understanding and supportive Toby had been when I'd relapsed from my drug addiction to Adderall, and I felt compelled to tell him the truth.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" I asked.

Toby nodded, his face grave. "I promise."

I took a deep breath. "I was at The Radley Hotel the night that Charles was killed. My friends and I were drinking, and we crashed in Hanna's room upstairs."

"Why are you telling me this?"

I looked at him, realizing how dangerous this conversation was. It was so comfortable and easy around Toby. I was giving away things to him without meaning to.

"Because I want to be completely honest with you and I thought you should know before the police or Tanner told you," I said. "They might think we had something to do with Charles' getting killed because of our history."

Toby held my hand and stared into my eyes. "Spencer, I would never think you had anything to do with Charles' death. You're the sweetest, kindest person I know. You couldn't have killed anyone."

"You always had faith in me." My voice was thick with emotion as I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks.

He wiped the tears away with his thumb, but his expression was concerned. "You should get a lawyer in case you get questioned. I don't suppose your mom could help you?"

I shook my head." No. She's a candidate right now, so it wouldn't be appropriate. At least, that's what her campaign manager tells me."

"The police are planning to list you and your friends as suspects in Charles' murder," he warned. "Tanner is already coming up with theories again about how you might be connected to his death."

"There's something else," I said. When Toby looked at me expectantly, I continued. "Aria was there with us in the hotel, but she left an hour before Charles was killed. Ezra was with her."

"Do you believe her?" Toby asked.

"I sighed. "I don't know. She says that when she saw Charles that night, she left and went straight back to the hotel. But she didn't see Ezra leave."

Toby raised an eyebrow. "So you think Ezra killed Charles?"

"I mean, he was angry about what happened to Nicole. Maybe he blames Charles for what happened to her."

"I can look at the police report and see if I can find anything," he offered.

"No, Toby, don't," I pleaded. "I don't want you getting involved."

"But I am. I'm a cop, it's my job."

"I know, but you could get into trouble for this."

"I don't care," he insisted. "Spencer, if the person who killed Charles is responsible for trying to frame you, I'm going to do whatever I can to help you."

I felt my heart melt. "Thank you."

Toby smiled crookedly at me. "It wouldn't be the first time we got framed for murder."

I laughed, surprising myself. I was laughing, actually laughing. It had been such a burden on my shoulders keeping this secret from him. My smile widened, and Toby began to laugh, too. I never laughed like this except when I was with him. He evoked this side of me to the surface, a side that was giddy and free.

We stopped at a clearing and stepped through a curtain of hanging vines. Rose bushes that went knee-high and birchwood trees encircled the area, forming a secret garden of some sort, and was filled with tall cherry blossom trees and heaps of rocks. A few feet away, a massive waterfall gushed into a rock-lined lake below. The lake was enchanting with crystal-blue water, was perfectly rounded, and wildflowers of all sorts of colors sprouted from within the rocks–lavender, light blue, white, and soft pink, even lilies.

In the distance, a buttery sunlight filtered in through the treetops, bathing in its glow a free-standing, wood garden swing seat. The swing hung from thick rope, and was built in a curved softwood structure and crossbars. Next to it was the familiar giant oak tree. And carved onto the bark of the trunk was a big heart with the initials _SH + TC_ in it. My heart sped up. Toby and I had been so young at the time when we'd carved our names into the tree. It was as if we were trying to cement our relationship, our strong connection to each other.

Toby turned in the direction of the tree as if reading my mind. "Do you remember that?"

I smiled. "Of course I do."

Memories of the passionate love we once shared came rushing back to the surface, and when I looked at him, I knew he was thinking about it, too.

"I like to sit out here sometimes," Toby told me.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, amazed by the beauty of the place.

"When it feels like the walls are closing in, I come here to think," he explained.

I nodded, remembering how he used to take off whenever things got too hard for him. After Toby and I would get into a fight, he'd leave and I'd stay up the whole night calling him and worrying about someone–namely A–hurting him or worse. It scared the living hell out of me imagining his body in the road somewhere in pieces.

"I remember," I said quietly.

Toby's eyes turned apologetic, as though he was thinking my exact thoughts. "I used to take off when it felt like the world was crashing down around me. It took me a long time to sort through my issues."

"I'm glad you found what you were looking for." I couldn't hold back the sadness in my voice as I spoke.

Surprising me, Toby let go of my hand to stroke the side of my face. His thumb grazed my mouth, sending tingles all over my skin. I felt my lips part beneath his touch, losing myself in the magic of the moment.

I couldn't help myself from touching him–from sliding my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his chest. "I've missed you," I said thoughtlessly.

"I miss you, too. So much." Toby rested his cheek against my head in response and stroked my hair, from my head to my shoulders. Like he missed us, too, like he felt the same hollow emptiness as I did. Still, he kept his eyes forward as he slowly pulled himself away from me, probably trying to regain as much control as he could.

When I looked back at Toby, his expression was vulnerable. "Do you want to sit with me?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Toby took my hand again and moved in the direction of the swing, pulling me next to him on the cushioned seat. I curled in closer to him, nearly crawling into his lap, and I snuggled fully across his chest.

"I love doing this with you," I sighed.

Toby snaked his arms around my waist in and pulled me close, making me feel safer than I had all week. He started to run his hand up and down my shoulder as I put my head against his strong chest, allowing his warmth to comfort me.

We sat there for a moment in silence with my ear pressed against his chest, listening to the erratic beating of his heart. I thought about Toby and the two of us, and I could see us sitting here like this on the front porch of our house as we watched our children in the front yard. I knew it was silly to be having such thoughts, but somehow I sensed that Toby was seeing the same picture.

I looked dreamily toward the sky, Toby's arm still draped around my shoulders. The sun was just sinking behind the glowing orange-pale pink horizon. Beneath the setting sun, I could feel Toby watching me.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked.

"No," I answered, hating the way Caleb's face floated in the front of my mind, and a swarm of guilty feelings washed over me.

Why was I feeling this way? Why was I thinking about Caleb? I felt the same frustrated, confused feelings as I did in my recurring dream of being trapped in a small room that was locked from the outside. Every time I tried to open the door, it wouldn't budge and the darkness made it impossible to see. And when I screamed for Toby, he couldn't hear me. I was lost. Caleb wasn't even here and he was ruining my precious time with Toby.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Toby asked.

"No," I whispered, wishing that things between us could go back to the way they were.

"So, we should probably talk about what happened at dinner," he began slowly.

"What about it?" I pressed my forehead into the warm material of his sweater.

"About what it means. You'll be leaving after the election is over. Where does that leave us? I can't lose you again." His blue eyes looked scared and wounded.

"You could never lose me." I pressed my hands against the sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. But he turned away, still brooding, trying to avoid my gaze. And he wouldn't touch me.

"Toby…" He felt so far away, so distant. "Please look at me."

When Toby finally met my eyes again, his gaze rested on my lips. I stared back, intuiting his thoughts.

"You can't kiss me," I told him.

"I know," he whispered sadly. "But I can kiss you in other places. Like here." I felt a flush of pleasure when he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

"Here." Toby moved on to my nose next, kissing it. "And here." He pressed his lips against my forehead, the feeling of his kiss lingering on my skin.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against my top lip, fighting the temptation to kiss me.

"Wait, I don't want to hurt you," Toby said suddenly. His breath was labored and thick. "We can't do this."

I said nothing, my heart wrenching.

"I know you're going through a lot right now," he continued, "but trust me when I say this is for the best."

Anger surged up inside me. How dare he try to choose for me!

"How can you say that?" I snapped, standing up. "How could you possibly know what I need?"

Toby stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "Spencer, I'm trying to do what is best for you."

Tears filled my eyes. "If you knew me at all, you would know that this is not what's best for me. Because it is you that is best for me."

"You have a future in Washington," he murmured bleakly. "I can't get in the way of that."

"But you know I don't want to be there."

"Spencer–"

"Why are you doing this?" I cried.

"Because you deserve better." The words caught in his throat. "I'm bad for you."

"I love you," I declared. "So if you leave, you're not doing this for me, you're doing it for you. Because I know what I want."

"Spencer, if you're with me, you'll probably get hurt," he said, his expression tortured. "I can't let that happen."

Anger and hurt swept through me. "That's not your decision to make. You don't get to decide what I need and when I should get it."

"It is when it comes to keeping you safe."

"I don't need you to be the hero," I told him. My heart ached as I stared at him helplessly. "Do you want this? Do you want me?"

"I do." Finally, Toby closed the distance between us and I rushed into his arms, unable to hold back anymore.

I pressed my cheek against his chest once more, listening to his thudding heartbeat. As Toby held me, I couldn't help wondering if the election meant I'd have to leave Toby soon, and with him, the feeling of being this happy ever again.

Jess

"And it wasn't just that he was so clearly trying to take advantage of Spencer, but Melissa was acting like she was purposely moving in on Caleb," I was telling my best friend, Sasha Stefani, who was sitting at the marble-topped kitchen island. Her short, black wavy hair was pulled back into Space Buns with a few wisps of hair hanging in front of her face, and she wore a black sexy, off-the shoulder top, designer APC jeans–which she'd bought on a trip to Paris–and a pair of black studded, high-heeled ankle boots.

It was Thursday afternoon, and Sasha and I were sitting at the kitchen island in the Hastings barn, sipping some herbal tea from ceramic mugs that I'd just brewed from the teapot. Caleb had thankfully locked himself in the guest bedroom to work on the campaign website, leaving the two of us alone. I hadn't seen Sasha since the funeral, and it put me at ease knowing she was here.

Sasha was tall and slender with a beautiful ballet-dancer's figure, and had a pretty, feminine delicate face with angular cheekbones, full lips, and a swan-like neck. And she held herself with such confidence that you wouldn't think her family was just as screwed up as the rest of the people in this town underneath all the designer clothes and irresistible glossy pink lips. It was a perfection that made every girl in the room sick with envy because of her natural good looks.

Sasha inspected her manicured French nails. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time Spencer's snatched another girl's boyfriend, Hanna's ex nether less."

I gaped at her, appalled.

"What?" Sasha narrowed her intense grey eyes. "They were in Spain together for all that time, doing God knows what. You honestly think nothing happened? C'mon, there's no way they didn't get down and dirty."

"Spencer would never do that to Hanna," I insisted.

She rolled her eyes. " _Please_. She's hooked up with, like, half the guys in Rosewood. I wouldn't put it past her if she banged Caleb, too. There's a reason everyone calls her the town slut."

It was wrong of Spencer to kiss Ian, but I didn't believe she would go as far as to steal somebody's boyfriend. It was a betrayal that was unforgivable.

"But that's not who Spencer is," I said strongly.

"Maybe not, but you know who Caleb is. I mean, this is the guy who used Hanna to get information for Jenna Marshall. He's capable of anything." She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

I knitted my eyebrows together. "Wait, you think Caleb is moving in on Spencer to win back Hanna?"

Sasha gave me a look as if it say, _duh_.

"That's insane. She's getting married to someone else."

"Jess, the guy's a freak," Sasha said. "What did you expect?"

I turned to my laptop on the table, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I'd opened a series of website articles and interviews that I had found online of Christine Phillips' campaign, the opposing senator candidate. The headlines read, _The Truth About Veronica Hastings_ and _Don't Believe the Lies_.One article had a photo of Christine herself underneath the headline, _Christine Phillips: The Right Choice_. She looked gorgeous in a black Gucci pantsuit and raspberry silk camisole underneath.

Sasha nodded at the screen. "So that's Chrstine Phillips. She's the devil."

I laughed without humor. "You have no idea. Someone on her committee wrote a blog about Spencer's past arrests to try to sabotage Veronica's campaign."

"The Devil wears Prada," Sasha joked dryly.

I bit my tongue. Not only was Christine Phillips Veronica's rival for the upcoming election, she'd also served as the state senator for years in Philadelphia. She had tons of campaign funds and wealthy friends in high places. Her daughter, Yvonne, was our age and was just as stuck-up and condescending as her mother.

Sasha scooted in closer to me to look at Christine's photo. Christine Phillips was a statuesque, beautiful, dark-haired woman who resembled Kerry Washington. She had light-brown skin that glowed, her shoulder length long brown hair shone, and she had that flawless, pearly-white politician smile that was used to getting what she wanted.

In that same moment, the guest room door opened and Caleb stepped out into the living room. My toes curled in fear. My conversation with Melissa this morning was making me feel a little uncomfortable around Caleb. I couldn't help wondering if what she'd said about Spencer was true: that she would steal other girls' boyfriends and that she tended to fall for bad boys. I'd never heard Melissa sound so protective of Spencer. Almost like she was afraid Caleb was going to lure Spencer into a relationship with him and then break her heart.

Surprise flitted across Caleb's features when he registered my face. "Oh, hey. I didn't know you were still here."

"Where'd you think she was?" Sasha responded nastily. "Hogwarts?"

I threw her a look. _Knock it off,_ I mouthed.

She checked her diamond-encrusted Chanel watch. "We should get going anyway. Josh is waiting for us at The Brew."

"Right," I said, remembering.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Caleb's eyes zeroed in on me. "It's important."

"Anything you have to say to Jess, you can say in front of me." Sasha looped her arm through mine protectively.

I looked at Caleb. There was a serious look on his face and I started to panic. Had the Phillips' done something to sabotage the campaign?

"It's okay, Sasha," I said, touching Sasha's hand. "Just wait for me outside. I'll be right out."

Sasha gave Caleb one last withering, dark look before turning for the door. When she was out of earshot, I fastened my brown eyes onto his expectantly.

Caleb gazed at my laptop sitting on the counter island. The Phillips' campaign article was still open on the computer screen. "Studying the competition, huh?"

I closed my laptop and snatched it off the table. "None of your business. Did you actually want something, or did you just come here to irritate me?"

Caleb sat down on one of the stools. "It's about Spencer."

I eyed him warily "What about her?"

"You guys are best friends. She likes me, right?" Caleb's eyes were hopeful.

"Yeah, she likes you," I replied simply.

"Does she talk about me?" he asked.

"I think Spencer can make her own decisions." I started to walk away, but Caleb stopped me.

"C'mon, tell me," he pushed. "What did she say?"

"She said you're a dog with too much bite," I bit.

Caleb grinned. "I'll take that as a challenge."

"You've never had trouble attracting the opposite sex before," I replied icily.

"Yeah, but Spencer's different. She's smart. Closing the deal with her requires a completely different strategy." Caleb winked.

"You mean sleeping with her." It wasn't a question.

"Maybe."

"It's never going to happen, Caleb," I spat.

Caleb smirked. "We'll see about that."

Anger filled my body. Did he not see how vulnerable Spencer was right now? How dare he take advantage of that!

I pursed my lips. "You know, Caleb, Spencer is in this really vulnerable state right now, okay? Don't take advantage of that."

"Relax. We're not going to do anything she doesn't want to." He threw me a charming, suggestive smile.

"Stay away from her," I threatened.

"You see that room over there?" Caleb said, pointing to Spencer's bedroom door. "When the light goes off, that means I'm inside with Spencer, increasing both our sexual skills in bed. And you? You'll be here, all alone."

I stared at him head on, unphased by his obvious manipulation. "You don't actually care about Spencer. You're just using her to get Hanna back." Then I narrowed my eyes at him darkly, hoping I looked intimidating and scary. "And if anything happens to her because of you, I will make you live to regret it."

I turned on my heel and strode out through the French doors. I could feel Caleb's eyes burning into my back as I left.

About fifteen minutes later, Sasha and I pulled up to The Brew and got out of Sasha's red Porsche–a Sweet Sixteen birthday present from her parents. Ominous grey clouds loomed overhead, threatening the chance of rain. The Brew was just up ahead, and I could hear the clicking of Sasha's heels against the pavement as we reached the door.

As soon as we stepped inside, the smell of coffee and old books filled my nose. I looked around. The Brew had changed dramatically since Ezra took over and bought it. Bohemian curtains draped over the windows, and the bookstore-merged-coffee shop was filled with modern bookshelves of every genre of books, glass coffee tables, and leather couches and armchairs were arranged on the south side of the shop into a lounging area.

"Jess! Sasha! Over here!"

Sasha and I both turned in the direction of where our names were being called to find Josh sitting at an empty table in the back of the room, and we rushed towards him. His full lips stretched into a huge grin across his face when he saw us approach, his bright blue eyes sparkling vividly. A huge surge of relief flooded through me. I'd wanted to talk to him since the last time we saw each other, the night that Charles was killed. There was so much left unsaid.

When Sasha and I reached his table, he wrapped his arms around both of us in a hug.

Josh looked the same as always: same sandy blonde hair, same sparkling blue eyes, same handsome face. But time had matured his features. He'd grown out of the soft muscles of his childhood youth and had hardened into a solid, lean body of a man. The tendons and veins had become prominent under his golden tan skin. Josh's face was still sweet and innocent-looking like I remembered since we were kids, though his angular cheekbones had sharpened, his jaw hardened. He looked more like a man now than a boy.

I pulled away to look at him and smiled back. I felt the familiar sense of comfort and ease seeing his face.

Josh immediately turned to Sasha, and I felt a twinge of jealousy. "Sasha? Is that really you?" He stared at her in surprise.

He stepped back a little to get a good look at her, taking in her model-thin figure, dark wavy hair, and flawless alabaster skin.

Sasha flashed a set of pearly-white teeth. "The one and only."

"Hey, Josh," I said.

"Hey." His eyes roamed over the features in my face, as if he were trying to memorize them. "How's Jason?"

I felt a stab of guilt. It hadn't been that long ago since I'd chosen Alison's older brother, Jason, over Josh. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind was sucked back into the scene at prom that I wished I could forget–when I'd told Josh that I was in love with Jason–playing over and over on a loop. When I saw his face, a mixture of hurt and torment, it was like a slap in the face. A well-deserved slap in the face.

In some weird way, Josh and I would always be connected. He was my best friend, the boy next door. I'd loved him since he'd moved into the house across the street from me when we were six years old. He was the one constant thing in my world and, most importantly, my family, when everything else in my life was too much to handle. Josh made me feel safe, he made me feel loved, and I knew that I could turn to him whenever I needed him. But Jason was the one for me.

With Jason, there was this strong, magnetic pull to him that I couldn't explain and it felt like our hearts recognized each other. He challenged me, made me feel things that I didn't think I was capable of, he consumed me in the best possible way. When I realized I couldn't live without Jason, I professed my deep love to him. And all of the guilt about my feelings for him when Ali had been my best friend for what seemed like infinity, for denying how we felt about each other, was all worth it in the end. He was the missing piece to my heart.

"He's good," I finally answered.

Josh didn't look convinced. "Really? I saw him at the funeral. I can't imagine what he must be going through."

My heart sank, even though I wasn't surprised. Josh had always been able to tell when something was going on with me. He used to say I was the world's worst actress. "Oh, yeah. Well, I think he's trying to accept Charles' death and move on."

He nodded, understanding.

"How are you?" I asked. "How's everything going at the Fire Department?"

Josh smiled. "Couldn't be better. I'm transferring to the Fire Department in Pennsylvania." He yanked off his jacket. FDPA was printed across his navy-blue shirt.

"Oh," I said, surprised. "Do you like it here? I mean–is it better than the one in New York?"

"Do you save damsels in distress?" Sasha joked right after, batting her eyelashes at him playfully.

Josh laughed. "Only you would think I'm in it to get girls, Sasha."

"It's a fair question."

"It's everything I ever wanted," he answered honestly. "But New York isn't for me, so I think I should stay here for now."

"I'm happy for you," I said, remembering how excited he was when he'd first told me about joining the Fire Department. "I know how important it is to you."

The day we'd graduated from Rosewood High, Josh had announced he was going with Payton to New York to join the Fire Academy, despite his mother's desperate pleas. But he was as stubborn as his father and was determined to follow through on his plans to become a fireman. Once he aced the FDPA entrance exam, he and Payton started working at the Fire Department in New York permanently.

"Payton got promoted to fire captain at the station," Josh said. "He's thinking about opening his own Fire Department here in Philadelphia and he asked me to come with him after the whole ordeal with Charles is dealt with."

"That's great," I said, thinking how nothing would ever truly be over with Charles.

"Are you going to do it?" Sasha asked him.

Josh shrugged. "I'm thinking about it."

Then we talked some more. Sasha and I each told him about our jobs, and Josh said he just wanted to be a fireman and live comfortably in a small town somewhere with a house of his own. And he didn't look surprised when I said I owned my own art gallery.

"I always knew you would be an artist," he said to me.

I smiled because it was true. Josh had always believed in me.

Then he gazed at me as if I was still the same girl he'd always known, but he was wrong. I could still see A's dark face looming in my rearview mirror, more evil and menacing as ever, from when he'd snuck into the backseat of my car and made me veer off the road into the lake. I couldn't remember a time when things weren't so complicated, when I felt completely safe. Or when a part of me knew with absolute certainty who I was, who I could trust, who I should hate. Now, it seemed nothing was simple.

Straightaway, a memory that I'd buried a long time ago bubbled up to the surface, scratching along the edges of everything I thought that I knew about Spencer. It was in late August just before school started in the fall, and Sasha's mom had gotten Ali, Sasha and I tickets at the _Royal National Theatre_ in London to see _Romeo and Juliet_. It was Spencer's favorite Shakespeare play, according to Ali. Jason had been there, too. After the play was over, Sasha sprinted over to talk to the cute, older boys, and Ali and I sat on the stone steps to eat our lunches.

"God, she always has to be the center of attention," Ali muttered, glaring enviously at Sasha.

That had been the first time I'd ever seen Ali jealous of someone. Sasha couldn't help it; she just had this infectious personality that drew guys–especially older ones–to her.

I frowned. "What's wrong?"

She sighed. "She just reminds me of Spencer, that's all. We got into a fight."

"About what?" I asked.

Ali shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say Sasha and Spencer have something in common when it comes to older boys."

I let it drop–when Ali and Spencer got mad at each other, I was the first person Ali would call to let off steam. But instead of dwelling on it, I started daydreaming about the electricity I'd felt between Jason and I through Tybalt's death scene. How his knee had brushed up against mine and made millions of butterflies swarm inside my stomach. We were sitting so close to each other, we had practically been touching. Had Jason meant to touch me? Or perhaps I had imagined the whole thing and he still saw me as his sister's best friend. When Ali's cell phone dinged and I looked up, there was an irritated look on her face, like she was really pissed off about something.

"Ali," I had said. "What is it?"

Ali turned her phone over, not even bothering to read the message. "It's just Spencer."

At the time, I hadn't thought much of it. But looking back now, I realized there was a lot about Spencer that I didn't know–and that scared me. Had she and Ali gotten into a fight because they liked the same older boy? Was it possible that what Melissa said about Spencer was true? Would she move in on Caleb if she could? Suddenly, my head spun and nothing made sense. I didn't know what was right anymore. Kissing Ian _and_ Wren had been wrong, but I didn't believe Spencer would be so cruel as to date her best friend's ex-boyfriend, especially someone who had once been so important to Hanna. And I had the sense that Hanna wasn't completely over Caleb, and there was no way Spencer didn't know that. Therefore, she wouldn't hurt Hanna that way, or try to steal a guy who was clearly off-limits.

"We'll have two macchiatos," Sasha announced, breaking me out of my old high school memories. "And my friend here will have a black coffee." She gestured toward Josh.

I looked up to see a waiter with a black apron standing at our table. After the waiter took our orders and walked away, I eyed Josh warily. From the stiffness in his shoulders and the worried lines in his forehead, I knew he didn't bring us here for coffee.

"Did you bring me here to talk about Charles?" I finally asked.

Josh glanced at Sasha, who was picking nervously at an invisible loose string in her jeans, then looked back at me. "Yes."

The truth was like a blow to the stomach as I slowly processed the information. I looked at Sasha, searching for an answer, and she met my gaze with empathic eyes. "We were worried about you."

My irritation flared. "What about me?"

"Jess, do you remember anything else from what happened that night?" Josh asked gently. "Did Charles call you before coming out to the church? Maybe he was trying to meet with you that night?"

I shook my head no. "The last thing I remember is waking up outside the church and seeing you guys. The next thing I know, we're all sitting in the church for Charles' funeral. It's like my mind is totally blank."

Josh and Sasha exchanged a worried glance. "We think that if you can't remember what happened to Charles, the person who did this to him might…strike again." He trailed off, his eyes wide and scared.

"Maybe Charles talked to you that night?" Sasha tried. "Or maybe you caught him doing something that he didn't want you to see."

I blinked hard, trying to remember. But my mind was like a giant, deep sinking hole. When I tried to reach for the memory I was looking for, it slipped through my fingers and fell deeper and deeper into the bottom of black nothingness. The last thing I remembered was getting a text message from Charles telling me that there was someone coming after me and my friends, and to meet him at the church. The only thing that scared me more than the realization of being alone with Charles was that there was a huge, gaping hole from the whole night. I couldn't even remember getting into the limo for Charles' funeral. My stomach churned, and I couldn't ignore the awful, nagging feeling that going to the church that night hadn't been an accident.

I grappled for something, _anything_ , to explain all this. But the only thing I could hold onto was the image of Charles' face looming over me and whispering something before fading away into darkness.

"No," I whispered. "I don't remember."

Sasha's eyes glistened. She held back the tears, but I could tell she was trying to put on a brave face. "We should've gotten to the church sooner. Maybe we would've been able to see Charles' killer and stopped it somehow."

My throat constricted. "That doesn't matter now. What matters is that we figure out what really happened that night. Someone was there with me when Charles was killed."

"You called us just after two in the morning," Sasha encouraged. "Maybe you saw Charles doing something incriminating. Or maybe you saw his killer."

Tears brimmed at the corners of my eyes and my lips trembled. I looked at Josh. He had been unusually quiet. There was a disturbed expression on his face and his forehead was creased, the way it often did when he was thinking really hard about something.

"Josh?" I said quietly.

Finally, he met my eyes. "So that cop, Lorenzo asked me some questions about Charles after the funeral. Like if I'd seen you that night. If I noticed anything strange. He knows something's up."

My heart pounded. " _What?_ "

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" Sasha shrieked at the same time.

"No, of course not," Josh assured us. "But he knows _something_. I just can't believe that any of this is happening."

I dropped my eyes. "Neither can I. I keep wishing I could go back in time and change it."

"Maybe we should tell Ali," Sasha suggested.

"No!" I said firmly. "She's going through enough as it is. I don't want her to have to worry about this, too."

"Well, we have to do something," Josh said. "It'll only be a matter of time before the police start questioning you guys next."

Sasha's face paled. Josh's shoulders tensed.

I took a deep breath, hating what I was about to say next. "I think we need Caleb's help."

Josh snapped his head up, his deep blue eyes blazing to ice. "Caleb Rivers? Are you crazy?"

I sighed. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but we need him if we want to find out what really happened that night. Otherwise the police are going to look at us as the main suspects in Charles' murder." I paused, an idea suddenly forming in my mind. "Maybe Caleb can find the footage of the night I went to see Charles. After I was kidnapped, the mayor had surveillance cameras set up around town to keep an eye on criminal activity. One of them has to show who killed Charles."

Josh set his jaw. "You can't trust him. Are you forgetting what he did to Hanna? He has a history of hurting and manipulating people to get what he wants."

"And what he wants right now is Spencer," Sasha added.

"I'm not forgetting who Caleb is," I responded. "This isn't about trust, it's about necessity."

"We've been able to stop A without his help before," Sasha insisted stubbornly. "We can manage on our own."

"I know you guys don't like Caleb–"

"You're right, I don't," Josh snapped. "The guy is a walking tornado. He hurts anyone who gets in his way and it'll only be a matter of time before he hurts you, too."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Josh looked away, hesitating.

"What do you mean?" I repeated.

"Josh, you can't just say something like that and not tell us," Sasha said. "Spill."

He raised his eyes to ours. "I just think you should watch out for Caleb. He's dangerous. He was suspected of murder."

"What did he do?" Sasha asked.

Josh let out a long breath. "When I was working at the auto body shop for my uncle in Allentown over the summer, I found out on the news that Caleb hacked for these shady guys. It was a credit card scam. I guess he was trying to make some extra cash. Anyway, one of them turned up dead and Caleb was the last one there at the scene. But the detective working the case let him go and he bailed."

My mouth gaped open. "Does Spencer's mom know?"

Josh snorted. "I doubt Ms. Hastings would have hired him to be on her campaign team if she knew. Honesty is not one of Caleb's strongest attributes."

Sasha shivered. "I can't believe he's living in their house. He's probably spying on us right now."

Anger quivered through me. "So Caleb just got away with it."

Josh turned to me. "If Caleb can get away with a murder charge like that, he's capable of pretty much anything."

I stared back at him, feeling unnerved and a little shaken. Because whether or not Spencer's feelings for him were real, Caleb couldn't be trusted.

Later that night, I pulled up to the barn in my car and stepped out. After Josh, Sasha and I parted our separate ways at The Brew, I drove straight back to the Hastings' property, trying to shake my uneasy feelings about Caleb.

I couldn't get over the fact that Caleb had been involved in something so dangerous. My mind kept going back to him–how he always seemed to know where my friends and I were, the extreme lengths he went to torment Mona after she was revealed to be A, when he spied on Hanna to get information for Jenna, and his suspicious ability to hack into police files with such ease. At the same time, it made perfect sense. Caleb had always seemed sketchy in high school when he would upgrade people's phones for money. But something about Caleb's sketchy past made him seem even darker and scarier.

Inside the house, I set my bag down on the kitchen island and rubbed my temples. Jason rounded the corner from the hallway, brightening when he saw me.

"Hey, you." Jason walked toward me and kissed me softly on the lips.

I smiled. "Hey, yourself."

"How was your coffee date with Sasha and Josh?" he asked, pulling me into his arms.

I sighed and wrapped my arms around his waist, relaxing against his chest. "It was…uneventful."

"You want to talk about it?"

I shook my head, thinking of everything Josh told me about Caleb, and I felt a twinge in my stomach. "Not really."

Jason started peppering my face with kisses. His lips lingered at my forehead. "I thought we could talk."

I looked up at him nervously. "Is everything okay?"

He saw the worry in my face and gave me a half-crooked smile, as if to assure me. "Yeah. I'm just feeling a little anxious about everything with Charles. And besides, I could use some alone time with you."

I reached for his hand. "Jason, I'm here for you."

He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling playfully. "I was hoping you'd say that." He glanced around the room. "Do you think we could go somewhere more private?"

"Let's go to our room then." I tugged him over to the bedroom door.

Jason dropped my hand and stretched out on our bed, propping himself up on a couple of pillows.

He crooked his finger at me. "Come here."

I walked slowly to the bed, my heart stuck in my throat. "Jason, did you know about Spencer and Caleb?"

He seemed confused. "What about them?"

"That they went to Spain together, alone." I emphasized on the word _alone_.

Jason nodded.

"For how long?"

He shrugged. "About a month. But I had a feeling something was going on when we came back to Rosewood."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not really any of our business."

I stared at him, in disbelief over the steadiness of Jason's voice. How could he be so calm about this? "I don't want Spencer to get hurt."

"Look, Spencer's still vulnerable from her breakup with Toby and Caleb's just trying to take advantage of that." I saw the muscles of his chest tighten. "She and Toby should be together if that's what they both want."

I hesitated. "Spencer thinks that Toby has a new girlfriend."

"Why does she think that?" he asked.

"Because he's building a house." I gave him a sly smile. "I think he's building it for Spencer to win her back."

Suddenly, Jason rolled over onto his side, reaching out to gently grab my wrists. He pulled me onto the bed beside him, and my heart went wild.

"Good," he said as he tucked my body in next to his. "It's about time he started fighting for her."

I hid my face into his neck. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't get what Caleb's endgame is. He's clearly not over Hanna. Now he's making moves on Spencer."

His face hardened. "Don't worry about Caleb. This thing he has going on with Spencer won't last. And I'll kill him before he ever hurts her."

I gazed up at him, marveling at the strong, protective sound in his voice. "I like seeing this side of you. All brotherly and protective."

Jason smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Then he leaned in to kiss the top of my head. I was pressed so tightly against him, I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"So what did you want to talk about?" I asked.

Jason shut his eyes, breathing air out through his lips. "I keep replaying that moment in my head, when they told me Charles was dead. I know it doesn't make any sense, but when he died, it felt like a part of me died, too. How messed up is that?"

I covered my hand with his. "He was your brother."

"My brother was a monster." His voice was harsh. "He killed and tortured people. And now I… I don't know who I am anymore. There's this darkness inside me. Maybe it's always been there and I'm just now seeing it. Maybe I'm just like Charles. When we found out that Charles was A and I let him go, I wanted to kill him."

"Jason, I know you're a good man," I assured him. "You're not Charles. We're going to get through this, I promise. We're going to be okay."

"Are _you_ okay?" His eyes softened and his voice became incredibly low and sexy, making it hard for me to concentrate on anything else but his lips. "So much has happened lately, it's been hard on everyone."

"Yeah, it has," I said quietly.

"But it's different for you." Jason cupped my face.

When I didn't answer, he traced the shape of my lips and I stopped breathing.

Jason pushed his fingers through the locks of my hair. "I believe I said something about spending some quality _alone_ time together." His warm breath brushed over my lips as he whispered.

My lips parted, trembling with desire, and in that instant his mouth caught mine, soft as pillows. I kissed him back, my lips hot, flicking my tongue against his amidst our wild gasps. The deafening sound of my thudding heartbeat inside my chest filled my ears and set my blood on fire. I sank back into the mattress. Jason rolled on top of me, gently pressing his body against mine.

My whole body was buzzing beneath him and I couldn't think. Jason's lips turned more fervently against mine as he winded his fingers through my hair. I brought him closer to me and kissed him harder, breathing hard, and bit his lower lip. Jason growled. Before I could react, he was trailing his lips over my neck.

I moaned. The electric touch of his lips on my skin made me feel dizzy.

Jason continued kissing me, moving his lips along my collarbone. He stroked my knee, sliding his fingers beneath the hem of my dress, working their way up my thigh. The beating of my heart became more frantic.

Jason leaned back only to pull his shirt over his head. He looked beautiful and tempting, smelling of sandalwood and peppermint. The light from the moon outside the window bathed him in its silvery glow. I ran my hands over his muscular abs and he groaned. He grabbed at my dress next, tugging it off.

We kissed feverishly, our hands roaming up each other's bodies. Jason slid his hands under the back clasp of my bra, tearing it off. My fingers felt for the buttons on his jeans and I yanked them down until he was only wearing his boxer briefs, brushing my hands against his hipbones.

"Oh God, Jess," Jason groaned. He pressed his forehead against mine, letting out ragged, heavy breaths.

I crushed my lips against his. My hands were inside his underwear, feeling the toned muscles of his butt. I couldn't even remember how they'd gotten there. "I want you," I gasped.

Jason glided his palms against my naked back. "Are you sure?"

My back curved against his fingers. "Yes."

In one swift motion, Jason tore off my panties and tossed them to the floor. He came back down to kiss my stomach. I moaned, feeling how much he wanted me and more. He traced the scars my step-father had left on my left side and collarbone, and he kissed those, too.

I pulled the blankets over us and we kicked off the rest of our clothes underneath. Our bodies entwined, tangling our limbs in the moonlight. I wrapped my legs around his naked waist, wanting to be closer to him still. This moment belonged only to us.

We made love under the covers until we couldn't go on anymore and Jason wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. And I buried my head into his chest so I couldn't hear anything but the distant howling of wolves outside the window and Jason's racing heartbeat.

Spencer

That same Thursday night, I walked around to the back patio of the Marin's massive white Georgian house that was supported by columns and a white picket fence. I felt horribly guilty about the way I'd spoken to Hanna this morning and refusing to help her when I knew she needed me. Some friend I was. I must have upset her.

I cracked open the double French door and peeked in. Hanna was standing at the stainless-steel fridge, putting away Tupperware containers of some leftovers.

"Hi," I said timidly.

Hanna turned around. "Hi. Uh, come in."

As she carried the dirty dishes over to the sink, I shut the door behind me and moved to the kitchen counter island, noticing neat piles of printout papers and photos of cats on top. "What's this?"

Hanna sighed. "Uh, research. My boss wants to buy a cat while she's in Asia. They have this weird breed with super short legs. They call them munchkins."

I stifled a laugh. "It's only slightly offensive."

"Yeah. Well, so is my boss."

Remorse flooded through me. "Look, I'm really sorry about the way that I talked to you today. I was just so focused on trying to be my mom's savior."

"No, it's fine," Hanna insisted. "Lucas is gonna help us. He is gonna be our alibi."

I looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

Hanna and I had known Lucas Gottesman since high school. In ninth grade, he'd been an unpopular dork–and one of Alison's targets. Ali often poked fun at Lucas because he spent every other waking second playing with his Xbox or sailing his toy boat in the lake, so she spread a rumor that he was a hermaphrodite and called him _Hermie_. Lucas stayed a loser all throughout high school, even when he and Hanna became friends. Now, however, he owned several home renovation businesses and lived in a multi million-dollar loft in Rosewood.

Before Hanna could answer, the _Physical_ ringtone blared from her cell phone on the table. She glanced briefly down at her phone, looking mortified.

I chuckled. "Um, is that munchkin lover?"

"No, it's Jordan calling me to say goodnight," she answered, picking up her phone.

"Oh, let me give you guys a–"

Hanna cut me off. "No, it's fine. I'll just call him back."

I gazed at her. "You seem really happy."

Hanna nodded and smiled happily, her eyes sparkling. A twinge of sadness pierced my gut. I had been that happy once with Toby, but my love story had ended a long time ago. And he already had a new girlfriend now anyway, so what did it matter?

I paused. "So, um, is it weird now for you to see Caleb?"

Hanna shook her head, frowning. "No. I'm getting married, Spencer." There was an annoyed look on her face. "God, why does everybody keep asking me about Caleb?"

"I…I didn't realize anybody else had," I stuttered. The familiar pang of jealousy returned when I pictured another girl showing interest in Caleb.

Shock crossed Hanna's features and her lips parted as the realization finally sunk in. "Oh!"

I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. Why did it bother me so much to see Caleb with someone else? For another girl to put a claim on him, to be able to touch him in ways that I couldn't? She would know him better than I did, would get to hear his contagious laughter and be around his easygoing manner every day, find out all his inner secrets from within the very core of his heart to his brain, and still get to witness the great guy he truly was. I could see Caleb moving on with his life after Hanna–to fall in love with a beautiful, smart, funny girl who understood him for everything he was and loved him back unconditionally–and it made me jealous. I would be just a shadow beside her, forgotten.

Hanna creased her forehead. "So, do you have feelings for…" she trailed off, as if it was too difficult for her to finish the sentence, making me feel even worse.

I stared back at her guiltily from underneath my eyelashes, but said nothing. I couldn't even begin to form the words. How did you explain needing someone, but knowing it could never turn into anything other than friendship? It would be so wrong to pursue Caleb. Not to mention selfish. I would just be using him.

Yet, I knew I wouldn't leave him. I couldn't. I still needed Caleb, needed him like a drug. I'd been using him as a crutch for so long that I didn't know how to function on my own. My heartbreak over Toby had broken me. Now I couldn't bear to lose Caleb. But caring for him was hurting Hanna and I couldn't stand to see her hurt. Hanna was my best friend; I would always love her. And her love would never be enough to dull the numbing pain. Between pain and nothing, I'd chosen to feel nothing. It was better than the inescapable loss I felt every time I looked at Toby's face.

Hurt and anguish washed over Hanna's face. She swallowed deeply. "So when you, um… When you guys, uh, met up in Spain, did you–"

I immediately understood what she meant: she thought Caleb and I had hooked up while we were in Spain. It made me feel embarrassed and a little annoyed. It wasn't like that.

"No, no, I would never do that to you," I said quickly, suddenly angry that she would think that. "I'd… No." It hurt to look at her, so I averted my eyes.

Hanna gave me a very small smile, but it wasn't sincere and it didn't reach her eyes. Guilt consumed me, leaving a powerful sting in its wake, like a piece of sharp metal had stabbed me in the chest.

"And I don't even know if he feels that way about me," I added.

Hanna didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, after a few moments passed, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and forced a smile. "Well, then I think that you should find out."

I smiled back slightly, consumed with guilt. Hanna was being so selfless, giving me permission to be with her ex-boyfriend despite the fact that he had once been her first, big love. What better way to destroy your friendship with someone than date her ex? This was wrong, I would hurt Hanna. I'd be letting her down. I suddenly felt sick, but not in the physical sense.

As soon as I left, I drove back to the barn as fast as I could and rushed inside, looking for Jess. I needed to talk to her. My emotions were so messed up, I didn't know what to think anymore. But when I turned the sliding door of her bedroom, it was locked from the inside.

I glanced at my watch. It was nine o'clock. With a sigh, I slipped into my room to get changed for bed.

My motions felt slow and unreal as I crawled underneath the covers, not really paying attention to what I was doing. I pulled the covers up to my chin and stared out the window, wondering if Toby was thinking about me like I was right now. The moon, bright and full, shone across the floor from outside. I felt myself reveling in the pure beauty of it. I could just picture the curve of Toby's shoulder when he'd sleep on his side, his beautiful tousled hair hanging in front of his eyes, could see the shape of his lips. I ached to reach out and touch his lips with my fingertips, and something about it filled me with a fierce, longing. His body was always so warm when he slept over and he smelled so good–like mint and sandalwood. Like home.

After rearranging my pillows on the bed, I rolled over onto my side and prepared for sleep, pretending Toby's arms were around me.

I didn't sleep well that night. My thoughts of Hanna and Caleb wouldn't fade away, and the strong pang of guilt never lessened. I pulled out my old picture frame of Toby, which had I still kept on my nightstand in my apartment back in D.C., to see if the image of his face would help, and then later tried fluffing my pillows, too. Sometime after midnight, I eventually eased into an uncomfortable sleep.

In the morning, I woke after tossing and turning for hours. The first thing I saw was an impossibly blue sky, and I realized it was the same color as Toby's eyes. My heart ached. Toby was everywhere here. When I was living in Washington, I could go days without being reminded of him and what had happened between us. Now I couldn't step outside without hearing his infectious voice in my ear or seeing his beautiful face at every corner in the street. It was a voice I'd walk through fire for.

I shook my head, trying to block the memories. It was too painful. I knew it was over, and yet, I felt closer to him than I had in a long time.

I sat up in bed and padded down the hallway to the bathroom to run cold water over my face. Even when I was done, I still felt mixed up inside. What was happening to me? How could I be in love with one guy and have feelings for another?

On one hand, Toby was my first love. What I felt for him was undeniable, but he was probably seeing someone else and had forgotten all about me and everything we had. On the other, Caleb brought out the goofier side in me and made me feel wanted. It felt electric and charged when I was around him. But if I tried anything with him, I could lose Hanna forever.

I went back to my room, trying to erase all thoughts of Toby and Caleb from my mind, and got dressed for the day in my Kate Spade dress. It was short and black with a white floral pattern, and clung to my figure. I paired it with a pair of red-velvet buckled ankle shoes and slipped out the front door.

Outside, I climbed into my Toyota Highlander and peeled out of the driveway. As I backed out, I checked over my shoulder to make sure it was clear and joined the morning rush hour traffic. The digital clock on the dashboard glowed 9:00 A.M. If I stayed on the Main Road, I could make it to Hollis College in fifteen minutes. Even though I was badly in need of a cold shower after my awkward conversation with Hanna last night, I was determined to talk to Damien and find out what his true motives were.

After driving through a few blocks, I approached the Hollis campus, which was filled with brick buildings covered in ivy and old bronze statues of the college founders. I pulled into a two-hour parking space in the student lot and cut the engine, making sure to lock the car manually with my keys.

I strode through the main entrance and turned a corner in the hall. The literature students worked in the Communications Building for the newspaper, so Damien had to be there. I burst through the doors of the journalism room and the sound of computer keys clacking filled my ears. A couple of literature students gathered around a table, discussing the next story to write for the paper.

I spotted Damien sitting at one of the wooden privacy writing desks. His face was bent down, deeply concentrating on the Mac laptop in front of him, papers scattered around. Brightly colored sticky notes were stuck onto the edge of the shelf above.

I marched up to him. "Damien."

He turned to me in surprise. "Spencer."

"Hey," I said flatly.

"Hi. Uh, I wasn't, uh, expecting you. Are you here to finish our interview?" He looked irritatingly hopeful.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I came to ask you if your article was really about millennials and politics, or if you had another angle."

When he stared at me blankly, I said, "The bunker girls."

Damien laughed uncomfortably. "Um, I think you need to relax. I'm writing about the twenty something children of senatorial candidates. And I don't…I don't have an agenda."

A square of neon green caught my eye. Damien had scrawled something on one of the Post-it notes. _Call Back Mona_.

"Really?" I said, unconvinced.

He stared back at me, unblinking. "Really."

"Then why you playing phone tag with Mona Vanderwaal?" I asked, looking at the sticky note. "Is she gonna offer you some fresh insight into Charles' Dollhouse?"

"Uh, no, she's scheduling a sit down with the opponent's daughter."

"What?" I blurted.

"Mona's working for the other camp." He gave me a funny look, like it was supposed to be obvious.

I scoffed in disbelief. "I'm sorry, when did this happen?"

"Well, don't look at me," he said defensively. "Apparently Mona approached your mom about working for her campaign first, but was shown the door."

I looked away, fidgeting with the collar of my dress.

"Wow," Damien said, sounding genuinely surprised. "You really didn't know. I've heard of inner circles, but leaving your daughter out…that's cold."

I pressed my lips together, a hot, clammy feeling swelling in my stomach.

The emotion of shock hit me first, followed by confusion, then to anger coursing hotly through my veins. I'd had enough of the lies and the secrets. For my entire existence, my parents favored Melissa over me and pretended I didn't exist, gave the barn apartment to Melissa instead, cut off my credit cards, and lied to me about Jason being my biological half-brother. And now my mom was keeping things from me. How could she not tell me about Mona?

Just two days ago, when Charles was released from the hospital, I thought my life was over. I thought since A was out that he would start tormenting my friends and I again. But I was wrong. The one thing I wanted most in the world was to have a family who loved and wanted me.

But I hadn't felt like I'd had a real family since the day I was born.

I walked across the large, pristine front lawn of my mother's house. When I rounded the corner to the back, I saw Melissa's silver Volvo sitting next to Jess' cherry-red Honda Civic in the private driveway and stopped short. What was Melissa doing here so late? Wasn't she supposed to be with mom, helping with the campaign speech for the fundraiser?

As I slipped inside the back door, I noticed that Melissa was sitting very still on the living room couch, blanketed by darkness. I switched on the light. "Melissa, what's wrong?" I asked her, surprised.

She sighed. "I am an idiot. I totally botched things with that reporter from Hollis."

I put down my Gucci red leather purse on the marble-topped kitchen island. "With Damien? You talked to him?"

Melissa's face was puckered with worry. "I wouldn't exactly call it talking. More like nervous blurting."

"Okay," I said, moving next to her on the couch. "What did you blurt?"

A look of fear flitted across her features. "Everything was going fine, but then he got up to take a phone call, and when he came back, his questions changed. And I saw words written on his pad."

"What were the words?" I pressed.

"I could only make out a few. But they really freaked me out. Source, cover-up, and tape." She paused. "Whatever happened to that tape I made you? The one where I talked about the night that Alison disappeared?"

"Oh my god, Melissa," I said, exasperated. "It's–it's gone. It's gone! I destroyed it!"

Melissa stood up and ran her hands through her hair anxiously.

My irritation flared. "Stop. Don't be paranoid."

When Melissa climbed up the stairs and disappeared down the hall, I thought again about the security tape from The Radley Hotel and a horrible feeling came over me: What if the tape that Damien was informed about over the phone was actually the hotel video footage? What if Ezra saw the tape from the night of Charles' murder? What if he had called Lorenzo and told him that I'd killed Charles?

My heart jumped in my throat, as it had been doing a lot lately. Had I made a mistake talking to Damien? What if he only said that he didn't have an ulterior motive to get me to spill my guts about my mom?

I thought about the trial again. The expression on Ezra's had darkened when Aria told the judge that she didn't want Charles to be released from Welby. And he was still grieving over Nicole's disappearance and possible death. He was full of so much anger and despair; he had every motive to want to hurt Charles–maybe even murder him. Ever since Aria told us that Ezra lied about going home after seeing Charles that night, I felt a strange, uncertain presence around him.

I got up from the couch and made a beeline for my purse, rooting around for my phone. When I finally retrieved it, I quickly typed in a new text to Aria: _Someone saw the hotel tape. Ezra needs to talk._ Within seconds, my iPhone buzzed with a response. _Let's talk at Ezra's,_ Aria texted back. _I'm going over there now_.

Aria didn't need to give me directions to Ezra's apartment because I already knew where it was by heart. After Toby moved out of the loft, he'd given it to Ezra.

I dug my car keys out of my purse as calmly as I could and rushed outside to my car, my phone still clutched firmly in my hand. Once I reached the vehicle, I flung open the door and slid into the driver's seat.

I started the engine and stomped on the gas, speeding away onto the road. I turned onto the Main Road, heading east towards Toby's old loft. My nerves felt jangled and tight. As I drove down Ezra's street, the familiar buildings flashed past me, causing a big lump to form in my throat. There was Rive Gauche, the French-Italian restaurant where Toby and I went to for our dates when we were young. There was the small stone bridge over the river that Toby and I snuck underneath to make out endlessly so that we couldn't be seen, and later, we skinny dipped in the water–back then, our parents didn't approve of our relationship and we were desperate to be together. There were the old Victorian houses that were split into apartments and leased out to residents. And, of course, there was The Brew underneath the loft where Toby and I would spend hours together.

After parking, I climbed up the fire escape to Ezra's floor and strode determinedly inside the brick hallway. Hanna, Emily, and Jess walked down the hall at the same time from the opposite side of me, looking as if they were preparing for battle.

I stopped in front of Ezra's apartment. "Are you guys here to talk to Ezra about…?"

"Yeah," Emily answered. "You?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

I knocked on Ezra's door. When it opened, Ezra stood before us, wearing a ratty old T-shirt and sweatpants, and the scruff on his face was unkempt. His eyes were red and glistened with moisture, as if he'd spent the last few hours crying.

"Is she already here?" Hanna blurted.

"Do come in," Ezra replied sarcastically. "Join the party." He stood aside and stretched out his arm, gesturing behind him toward Aria who looked like she was going to throw up.

Hanna walked in first, moving to stand in the middle of the room. Emily, Jess and I followed, and we all stood next to Hanna with our arms crossed defiantly.

"Anybody bring torches, pitchforks?" Ezra spat. "Anything like that?" His tone was hard and dripped with resentment.

"You didn't protect Aria, okay?" Hanna fired back. "I protected Aria!"

"Hanna–" I started to warn, but she cut me off.

"And we are not gonna go down for this because you thought you had to slay the dragon!" Hanna went on.

I touched her arm. "Hanna, please–"

Hanna snapped her head towards me. "What? My mom may go down for this, too. He needs to own up to what he did!"

"Hanna, just let me talk." I turned to Ezra. "Look, you can say that it was self-defense. Charles had a very long history of throwing the first punch and nobody would ever question you."

"They can't!" Ezra yelled. "You seem to already have all the answers."

"Ezra, it wasn't just some random car that hit him, okay?" Emily said. "Somebody planned this to make it look like he jumped."

"And you might have already had that plan in your head," I added. "That paper that I wrote, _Texas vs. Kellner_. You read it the summer before I published it when we met up at DuPont Circle right before your reading."

Ezra's eyes flashed with anger. "Okay. It's time for you to leave."

"Not until you're honest with us," Emily said firmly.

"Honest, Emily? You are not asking me to change your grade, you are asking me to confess to a _murder_."

"Where did you go that night after you left Aria?" Jess demanded.

Aria quickly jumped to Ezra's defense. "Jess, leave him alone."

"Why?" Emily pushed. "Sara Harvey won't leave us alone. She's sticking around Rosewood to punish us, Aria!"

"Yeah, she's good at that," Hanna muttered.

"And she will use this against us until it looks like we planned this and Ezra just carried out our wishes!" Emily continued.

"It's time to go," Ezra repeated.

Hanna shook her head stubbornly. Neither of us moved.

"Now!" he shouted strongly, making us all jump. "Get out!"

Aria flinched and stared at Ezra with wide, fearful eyes.

I stared at him in terror. I had never seen Ezra like this before and that scared me. A dark wave of rage washed over his once open, kind face, and pure fury surged in those normally dull brown eyes. Ezra emanated such anger and violence that it made me think my first instincts were right about him, confirming my worst fears.

"Okay," Hanna surrendered. "We're gonna leave. But you two better figure this before the police do." Then she stormed out the door.

Emily, Jess and I looked at Ezra one last time before following Hanna. When I slammed the door shut behind us, a sick feeling washed over me. _Somebody who had a motive to hurt Charles_ , Ali had said. And then I knew it was true: Ezra killed Charles.

As Emily and Hanna turned down the hall toward the stairs, I touched Jess' arm. "Hey, Jess, can we talk?"

She knitted her eyebrows together. "Yeah. Is everything okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I just need some advice on something and I don't have anyone who I can really talk to."

Jess waited until Hanna and Emily ascended the stairway leading to The Brew downstairs, and then turned back to me. "So what's going on?"

I sucked in a breath, trying to collect my thoughts. "Um, do you remember when you first realized that you had feelings for Jason and you were afraid Ali would get mad?" I paused, searching her face for any trace of disappointment, but there was none. "How'd you deal with that?"

"Why?"

I looked down at my hands. "It's just some friend stuff with Hanna."

Jess pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "I asked myself repeatedly if what I had with Jason was really worth losing my best friend over."

"Right." A lump stuck in my throat. Talking about Caleb instantly reminded me of why Hanna and I had always put our friendship first before guys.

Jess gave me an assuring smile. "If Ali is really my best friend, then she should just be happy for me. But it turned out I overreacted over nothing because the only thing she cared about was my happiness, so I had no reason to worry in the first place. And it's not like I was dating her ex-boyfriend."

I averted my eyes, hating the wave of guilt that punctured my gut sharply. How could I do this to Hanna? Harboring feelings for Caleb while she was selflessly trying to protect the rest of us from the police? I suddenly felt nauseous, and I couldn't breathe. Jess studied me, noting my torn expression. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Thanks, Jess."

"Sure," she said, but she didn't sound convinced. Jess continued to gaze at me with a worried expression on her face as I walked away.

And suddenly I knew what I had to do.

Later that evening, I opened the back door to the barn. The guilty thoughts that I'd been having about Caleb all day swept through me now like a tornado, twisting my insides. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. I was just going to do it. I would tell Caleb exactly where we stood: as friends and nothing more. Caleb was hot. Any girl within a five-mile radius could see that, but he wasn't my type. And he never would be. I couldn't please everyone.

When Caleb heard me come in, he quickly grabbed something off the coffee table and hid it beneath the couch cushions. Then he picked up one of the books that sat stacked neatly on top of the table and started flipping through the pages. His brown blanket and cream-colored pillow was folded up neatly onto the chair opposite him, and there was a plate of a half-eaten sandwich and a glass of water on the table. The only lights in the barn came from the lamps around the room.

"Hey," I said a little uneasily. My nerves were still jangled, as if my entire body was wired.

Caleb looked up, as if he had been reading the entire time. "Hey."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"No." He flipped over the book to look at the title. "I was just reading _The Gardner's Desk Reference_." Something about the way he said it told me that he was lying.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the ladder stairway leading upstairs to the attic, feeling touched. Toby had always been so protective of me, and now that we weren't together anymore, it felt comforting to know that Caleb had now transformed himself into that role. I needed to know there was someone who cared.

Caleb set the book down and turned to me. "Where have you been?"

I thought about my confrontation with Ezra, and the same acid, sickening feeling from earlier came rushing back. What if Ezra had seen my old college essay and turned it into the police to incriminate me for Charles' murder? What if I was the reason Charles was dead?

Caleb saw the look on my face and his forehead creased with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just… I met up with Hanna, Emily and Jess." I paused. "Um, when you first heard that Charles was killed, where did your mind go?"

I stared at him anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes were full of questions.

"You mean as in, like, who did it?" Caleb asked.

I nodded. He understood what I meant.

"I mean, Sara Harvey was pretty high on that list." He met my eyes. "Why?"

 _Because I wrote an essay that got Charles killed_. "I don't think that she did it. But…I do think that she remembers more than she'd letting on." I sat on the armchair of the couch, feeling the tears threatening to brim over.

Caleb frowned, looking confused. "I'm not following."

I stared at him. "Hanna really didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"About what happened the night of the prom," I answered. "When we went to Radley and we met Ali on the roof to try to stop–"

He cut me off. "Everyone knows that. E-even the cops."

My stomach dropped. I wished Hanna had told Caleb the truth about what happened to Sara the night of prom–he would never look at me the same way again. I imagined explaining it to him in a million different scenarios, but each one turned out worse than the other. It was already bad enough that the police were going to suspect me of murder. I would lose Caleb.

"Yeah, but something happened before that…that nobody knows about," I said, my voice trembling. "So, um, before we went to the top of the roof to stop Charles, Sara was there. She was trying to demolish Radley with a bomb. But when Emily stopped her, she fell onto the battery and…and her hands were electrocuted." I swallowed and continued. "We're the reason Sara got hurt. Emily was so angry that Sara had been working for A the entire time, so Sara probably wants revenge against all of us. She knows we were involved, she can tell the police the injury to her hands wasn't an accident."

I looked away in shame, and my lower lip shook. I suddenly felt faint.

Maybe I was just as cold and malicious as Charles had been. Before Charles tried to jump off the roof at Radley, I hadn't tried to stop Sara when she'd burned her hands. And several months before that, I'd remembered my suppressed memory of what had happened the night Ali went missing. I had followed Ali into the woods when everyone else was asleep and threatened her with a shovel–the murder weapon. I had been so furious with her for holding the Ian secret over my head that I thought maybe I'd killed Bethany with the shovel, thinking it was Ali. But after putting together the missing fragments of the memory, I realized it hadn't been me who'd killed her; it was my perfect, older sister, Melissa.

Even though I wasn't the one responsible for Bethany's death, I couldn't help but wonder if I had it in me to kill. I could lose my temper at times and I could be pushed to the limit. And I'd wanted Charles to suffer for what he did to me. Maybe all those years of being stalked and tormented slowly made me fall into insanity like Mona. Hardened my heart somehow. Maybe there was darkness inside me and I didn't even know it. Was I heartless?

My heart ached, wishing Toby were here right now. He always knew what to say to assure me that I wasn't a bad person, that I couldn't possibly be capable of killing someone.

I waited for the shock and disappointment to appear on Caleb's face, but none came. Instead, he looked at me with only trust and understanding. Which was more than I deserved.

"You were given an impossible choice," he said firmly.

"Yeah, I know, that's… That's what I always try to tell myself, but…what if that's not true?" Tears glistened in my eyes. "What if all those years of being stalked and tortured…what if that hardened me? Like maybe it happened so slowly that I don't even know that it was happening." My voice cracked with emotion.

Caleb moved closer to me and took my hand, staring up into my eyes. "Hey, listen to me. You are a good person."

I covered my hand over my mouth as the tears slid down my cheeks, trying not to lose it in front of him. I needed Toby, for him to kiss my tears away and tell me that everything was going to be okay.

When Caleb saw my tear-stained face, he continued. "Yes, you are. And you, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It just happens to be the sleeve of a flak jacket."

I laughed half-heartedly, almost believing what he was saying, and more tears streamed down my face. Caleb's gaze lingered on my face, moving his eyes appreciatively over my features. As though he liked what he saw.

Then he smiled and said, "Do you want a beer?"

I nodded shakily. As Caleb rose to grab a couple beers from the refrigerator, I moved over to the fireplace and added a few logs to make a fire. I picked up a match sitting on the hearth and lit one, making sure it caught onto the wood. A few minutes later, a spark caught a steady fire on the logs. I smiled with satisfaction and sat back down on the couch.

When Caleb returned, he handed me an already unopened bottle of beer and I took a long, greedy sip, as if I was starving to quench my thirst. He popped off the cap of his beer with his thumb and sat next to me on the couch.

We sat together in silence for a while, watching the dancing flames. As scary as it had been telling Caleb the truth, it felt good to have finally told someone. And even though neither of us were saying anything, the silence felt oddly comfortable. Caleb took a big, final swig of his beer, drunk from the bottle he'd downed.

"Thank you for not judging me," I said after a moment.

Caleb just smiled. "I just wish you hadn't judged yourself."

I chuckled lightly, then sipped some more of my beer. My body felt warm and buzzy, and my throat was thick with alcohol. It felt like I was floating. I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt this relaxed and carefree.

I tipsily set down my beer bottle and peeked at Caleb. The flames of the fire cast a warm glow on his face, heightening his features. He had changed a lot over the last few years. Gone was the guarded, sloppy, and sketchy bad boy who crashed into Rosewood and broke Hanna's heart. In his place was a gorgeous guy with stylishly messy brown hair, sexy and mysterious dark-brown eyes, and perfectly shaped pink lips. The alcohol had definitely gone to my head.

"You're a good friend," I said, feeling drunk. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Our eyes locked. Suddenly, Caleb reached over and threaded his fingers through mine, holding my hand. I was so shocked by the gesture, I didn't know what to think or how I should feel. I tried to assure myself that he merely meant it platonically, and yet, I couldn't seem to relax. Then I thought of Hanna, filling me with guilty feelings and conflicting desires.

Very slowly, he turned my hand over in his, palm up, to trace his fingers lightly over the sensitive part of my inner palm. I stopped breathing. Caleb brushed his fingers softly across my cheek to brush away my hair and I closed my eyes, feeling dizzy. Then he leaned in and kissed me. My eyes flew open. As our lips touched, the beer I'd downed burned in the back of my throat. The kiss was slimy and rushed. Caleb smelled overwhelmingly like beer, and the scent wafted all around me.

When he finally pulled away, he kept his face close to mine and gazed into my eyes for what seemed like the longest time, the tips of our noses touching. My veins iced over in alarm. Something about this felt very, very wrong.

My heart hammered rapidly inside my chest. "Um, Caleb–"

Before I could finish, Caleb crushed his mouth against mine forcefully without giving me a chance to breathe, kissing me hard. Panic surged through me, freezing me in place.

As he eased me down on the couch, the image of Toby flashed across my mind and I felt a strong feeling of longing for him. _Toby_. Suddenly, reality set in and everything came into clear focus. A million memories swarmed through my head, overwhelming me. Our first kiss at the motel. When Toby and I said 'I love you' to each other for the first time after I bought him his dream truck. Making passionate love in my old bedroom. How safe I felt falling asleep in his arms when we snuggled together in my chair by the window. And the several occasions we'd snuck away just to be together at our special rock.

In that instant, Caleb pushed me roughly into the corner of the couch and shoved his tongue into my throat. Fear pressed down onto my chest, and I couldn't breathe. His body felt powerful and heavy on top of mine, not gentle and loving like Toby's had always been. My dress suddenly felt too tight.

I struggled to speak against his lips. "Caleb, stop."

Caleb continued to grope me. I tried kicking him to break free, but every muscle in my limbs had grown numb and weak. In my effort, my shoe slipped off and fell onto the floor with a thud. I didn't have the strength to fight back.

There was nothing gentle about the way Caleb shoved my dress above my waist, or the way he slid his hand around the back of my thigh to grab my butt extra hard.

By the time I realized what was happening, he was already heaving his body harshly against mine, leaving no room for me to squirm out from under him. A hot, uncomfortable feeling swelled inside me. I didn't want to share myself with him this way.

"Caleb, no," I pleaded weakly. "Don't."

But to my horror, he yanked off my panties and threw them across the room. I frantically flung my leg around him clumsily as I struggled to escape, but it was no use. He used all of his weight to pin me down with overpowering force, crushing my ribcage in the process. A searing pain shot through my ribs to my chest, making me cry out in agony. I felt trapped and helpless.

I heard the unmistakable rip as Caleb tore off my dress with a frightening animalistic hunger, ripping apart the fabric. But it didn't feel like it was me he wanted. He wanted something else. Something darker, much scarier.

"Toby!" I screamed.

My head felt full and cloudy, and it was difficult to stay awake. Eventually I couldn't fight anymore and I let Caleb push me down, surrendering to him. And then everything faded to black…


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Bad Habits

Jess

The next morning, after I'd showered and gotten dressed, I turned the house key into the door lock and walked inside the Hastings' barn, carrying a cardboard tray of two Venti Starbucks coffees. Last night, when Spencer had asked me about Jason, I had the distinct feeling that she was really talking about Toby. I began to worry and stopped by the closest Starbucks, bought Spencer her favorite double espresso with milk and sugar, and drove back to the barn for some much needed girl-time.

"Spencer?" I called. "I got you some coffee."

I looked around. The house was empty and silent. The coffee table was cluttered with beer bottles and the fireplace in the living room was filled with ashes from a burned out fire. After collecting the empty beer bottles, I went over to the kitchen counter to brew a fresh pot of coffee for Melissa when she woke up, and pressed the button on the coffeemaker. As it brewed, something solid and black caught my eye. I turned, noticing a black dress lying in a haphazard heap by the couch. I picked it up, running my fingers over the ripped fabric, as if someone had trouble taking it off. I recognized it as the dress Spencer had worn the night before.

 _No_. My stomach churned, and I had to swallow back the bile that threatened to rise in my throat. Spencer was undoubtedly with Caleb right now, doing God knows what. But a part of my brain still refused to believe it was true.

I moved cautiously down the hallway to Spencer's bedroom. The sliding door was open. When I approached the doorway, I stifled back a gasp, finding a very naked Spencer lying in bed on her stomach. Caleb was lying next to her, and a black padded bra was hanging off of one of the bedposts. The lavender duvet comforter had been kicked off onto the floor overnight, and the sheets only covered below Caleb's naked waist and Spencer's torso and legs.

A violent quiver of rage and betrayal surged through me, making my blood boil with fire. How could _she?_ I suddenly I hated Spencer. I hated her for doing this to Hanna. And I hated myself for trusting her.

Setting my jaw, I stormed up to the front door and slammed it extra hard, making sure they heard.

Spencer

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of a door slamming, startling me awake. My first thought upon waking up was that everything hurt, from my butt to my back to my chest. Sunlight streamed in through the window, bathing my bare back in its warmth. I was lying on my stomach in my bed, the dusty-rose pink sheets covering only my torso and legs. My gray comforter had somehow fallen into a heap on the floor over the course of the night. I checked myself underneath the sheet. I must have sleep stripped off the floral dress I'd worn the night before and was now naked. I couldn't remember much of what happened last night–I'd been so wasted.

Then I looked next to me, and my body prickled with horrible fear and confusion. Caleb slept on his back, his hand resting over his bare chest. The sheets barely covered his lower waist, exposing his naked thighs.

Oh, God. _What happened last night? Did we…?_ A terrible, sickly feeling gnawed at my stomach. Something felt horribly wrong. 

I couldn't finish the thought. It was too horrible to think about.

As I slowly pushed myself up in bed, careful as to not wake Caleb, an excruciating pain shot through my pelvis to my inner thighs, making me wince. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out in agony.

I peeked at Caleb warily over my shoulder, feeling naked and exposed. When I was certain he was still asleep, I quickly wrapped myself up in the bed sheet and scrambled to put on the closest thing that I could find. Toby's charcoal T-shirt, which I had been keeping under my bed to help me sleep at night, was thankfully in the same place where I had left it. I hastily pulled it on and then grabbed a pair of undies from my top drawer dresser. Then I snatched my folded set of clothes off the counter from the bathroom that I had left the previous morning.

I rushed out of the bedroom despite the shooting pain that I felt in between my legs. I had to get out of here as soon as possible. I tiptoed into the kitchen and picked up my phone and car keys from the kitchen counter. Several new text messages flashed across my iPhone's screen:

Spencer? Hello! – Hanna

Did you get the text? – Aria

S.O.S. – Emily

Where are you, Spencer?! – Jess

But the last text came from a blocked number with a devil emoji. I felt my heart stop as I opened the message.

You know who did it and I'm going to make you talk.

I reread the text, making sure I was seeing it right. Who could possibly know about Charles' murderer?

Ezra…

I looked up from the phone's screen, fear trembling through my stomach. Ezra had every motive to want Charles dead and now he was setting up my friends and I to make us look like the culprits. Back in high school, after Aria and Ezra had broken up for good, Ezra met Emily and Jess' friend, Nicole Gordon, and the two instantly fell in love. Ezra had followed her to Africa for the Habitat for Humanity program to help underprivileged children, but a year later she was captured by a serial killer in Brazil and was never heard from or seen again, presumed to be dead. And Ezra also knew about my old criminology paper from college, a case study that I'd written about a unique murder the same way Charles had died.

If he knew that the police were closing in on Charles' killer…

I quickly scrolled through my phone's contact list for Sasha's number. She was the last person I would think of calling, but also the only one who could help me. She answered on the first ring.

"Hey. It's Spencer. Listen, I need your help."

After driving all the way across town to change clothes at the French Manor, the inn where Sasha was staying until Charles' murder investigation was solved, I hurried through the double doors of The Radley Hotel entrance and made my way over to the lounge, where Aria, Hanna, Emily and Jess were waiting for me. It was now 9 A.M.; I was running later than I'd realized. Hopefully Caleb would be long gone by the time I got back to the barn.

"You guys, I'm so sorry," I said, walking up to them. "I was up late last night prepping for a town hall meeting. I turned my phone off."

Jess narrowed her eyes at me darkly. "Were you."

My cheeks burned, afraid she could see through my lie. From the probing way she was studying me and the thin, taut line in her lips, I had the sense that it wasn't a question. I felt like one of those insects being examined underneath a microscope.

I set my iPhone down on the glass coffee table and sat next to Emily on the black leather couch, leaving the mysterious text out in plain sight for everyone else to see. "Who the hell sent that?"

"Someone who has our new number," Emily responded.

Aria turned to her. "Like Ali? We all know I am at the top of her suspect list."

"Ali doesn't think you killed Charles," Jess assured her. "She knows you're innocent after what we found out about Ezra."

"Maybe that's why Sara's hanging around," Emily piped up. "She might not be able to cut around me, but she can still type a text."

"So I'm guessing everything she told the judge about Charles was a lie," Hanna said dryly.

"Maybe she came back here to mourn the death of her mentor, not her tormenter," I offered.

Aria looked skeptical. "So we're-we're definitely saying that Sara's the stalker?"

"I'm telling you guys that bitch wasn't Stockholmed," Emily insisted.

"Well, the only thing we know for sure is that she has spent two years helping Charles torture us," I said. "That's plenty of time to perfect the art of cyber stalking."

"Or it could just be some cyber techie at the phone company with too much time on his hands," Hanna disagreed.

We all looked at Hanna uncertainly.

Hanna sighed. "God, I miss New York. I am addicted to Blue Bottle Coffee."

"You should go to Paris," Jess interrupted. "They have the best cafés. I could live off their wine and croissants."

"Well, one cup from this place and you'll feel like you can handle anything your boss throws at you. Staplers, her phone–" Hanna was cut off mid-sentence.

Emily frowned. "Your boss literally throws things at you?"

Hanna paused suddenly and reached for her phone, typing a response on the screen's touch keypad.

I stared at her in alarm. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"I lied to Lorenzo yesterday and he knows it," Hanna answered. "I don't have any time to play games."

"Like the techie's really going to respond." Sarcasm dripped in Aria's voice.

But a few seconds later, Hanna turned her iPhone towards us, showing someone writing back. Hanna had typed, _Do I know you?_ above the thought bubble icon.

"Okay, the techie's typing," Emily said.

Everyone leaned forward to stare at the phone anxiously, waiting in tense silence as the person typing finished their text message. Then Hanna's iPhone beeped, making us all flinch.

Hanna glanced down at the phone's screen before looking back up at us. "Yes."

My heart began to pound. Hanna showed her phone to us again, displaying the text message on the screen. The new message read,

YES.

Whoever this stalker was, they thought my friends and I knew who Charles' killer was and they were going to keep on tormenting us until we turned that person over to the police. I wasn't naïve–I knew the world wasn't innocent and painted in shades of pink. Bad people were killed, and good people were blamed for it. But I still couldn't help but wonder if there was something I wasn't seeing. Or didn't want to see.

Just then, Jess' cell phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her bag and looked at the phone's screen.

"It's Ali," she assured us, noticing we were all staring at her.

Jess stood up from the black leather chaise where she was sitting and pressed the phone to her ear, wandering over to the far side of the room. "Hey, Ali," she answered.

As she walked away, I picked up my phone from the coffee table to see if I had any new messages from Toby. Sure enough, I had a new text; I'd missed seven calls from him.

I need to see you. – Toby

Butterflies rocketed inside my stomach. I switched my phone off, overcome with a mess of guilty feelings about Caleb. I tried searching my memory of what happened the night before, but everything felt clouded and fuzzy. And the muscles in my thighs and stomach still ached.

"So you're with Dr. Rollins?" I heard Jess say over the phone. "It sounds peaceful there." She paused. "Okay, well, give us a call if you need anything. Bye."

Jess hung up and returned to her seat on the chaise, but she wouldn't look at me. "So Alison's at the Rollins' family farm in eastern Pennsylvania," she informed Aria, Hanna and Emily. "They're on a dairy tour right now."

"If Ali's really tasting Amish cheese, do you think she's the cyber stalker?" Hanna asked.

"If is a really big two-letter word, Hanna," Aria replied.

"Guys," Jess said sternly, looking between Aria and Hanna. "Ali is not the stalker, okay? She wouldn't do that to us."

"Whoever this person is," I butted in, "they think that we know who killed Charles and they're sending us these texts because they want us to rat that person out."

Hanna looked around at the girls. "Okay, but we do know who killed him. Don't we?"

"Ezra said he didn't do it," Aria insisted strongly.

I threw her a look. Aria always had a blind spot when it came to Ezra. "Maybe that's what you heard, Aria, but the rest of us heard Ezra kick us out of his apartment."

"Guys."

Everyone turned as they followed Emily's gaze to the set of flat-screen TVs on the wall inside the bar. When I looked up, I saw Lorenzo standing at a podium with an American flag in the blue background as he spoke into two microphones. We got up from the couch and moved closer to the TV.

"Oh my God," Jess whispered.

Hanna grabbed Jess' hand.

"And every member of this police department is taking this case not just seriously, but personally," Lorenzo announced. "Without going into detail that can harm the investigation, I can tell you that we narrowing down our list of suspects. We're confident we know what the murder weapon was and we will find it. The person who killed Charles DiLaurentis will be brought to justice."

My whole body went numb, and I felt faint. When I looked over at Jess, her face had gone completely white. Before I could ask her what was wrong, Emily stared at something off in the distance. "Aria," she said.

I looked in the direction she was staring at, and the others did the same. Then, I saw a guy with floppy brown hair and familiar green eyes. It was Byron Montgomery, Aria's dad, dressed in a dark suit and a brown leather messenger bag was slung over his shoulder.

I continued to stare as Byron made his way through the lobby, disappearing inside the elevator. Hanna dropped Jess' hand and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, what's my dad doing here?" Aria wondered in surprise.

"Looks like he got a room," Hanna said.

"I didn't know he was seeing anyone."

Hanna chuckled with a smirk. "Yeah, it's because they're doing it at The Radley."

Suddenly, Aria's cell phone rang. At the same time, Hanna's iPhone chimed. And it wasn't just their phones, but my phone too, vibrating in my pocket. Jess and Emily pulled theirs out to check the newest text message.

Everyone read their phones' screens. My heart dropped all the way down to my feet.

I found what they're looking for. Tell me who it belongs to.

I clicked on the attachment photo as it downloaded. It was a close-up shot of a nine-iron golf club.

"It's a nine iron," Hanna told us, like it wasn't already obvious. "You could kill somebody with that."

Emily frowned. "Do we really think that's a murder weapon?"

"Only one way to find out," Jess said in a strong, sure voice.

"Does Ezra play golf?" I asked Aria.

A chill raced up my spine even as I said it. I thought of Nicole when the news story first came out about her abduction, of how heartbroken Ezra had been. I'd seen pictures online of the mangled, bloody bodies of the victims who were taken and then killed in Brazil. Nicole probably suffered the same fate, and Ezra was taking out all his anger on the one person who caused the most suffering to his former love: Charles.

Aria looked up from her phone, but she wouldn't answer my question.

An hour later, I sat at the kitchen island in my mother's house scribbling down some notes in the binder of the campaign research about Christine Phillips, reading through the file details. The indistinct chatter of my mom's campaign staff and the sound of laptop keyboards clacking furiously filled the room. I tensed when the stool next to me moved, but I kept my eyes down on the binder's files, careful not to look at him.

"Hey!" Caleb said enthusiastically.

I looked up, feeling terribly uncomfortable. "Hey."

An awkward moment passed between us. I still wasn't entirely sure what had happened last night, and that scared me. Caleb opened up his laptop and I turned back to the binder, wanting to forget about it altogether.

"Thanks for making the coffee this morning," Caleb said.

"What coffee?" I asked.

"From this morning." He frowned. "There was a fresh pot when I got up."

"I didn't make any."

"I did," a voice said from behind us.

Caleb and I turned at the same time as Jess entered the kitchen. She set down her laptop on the kitchen counter island and deliberately took a seat as far as possible away from me.

"It seemed like you needed it." Her eyes needled into me.

A patch of red crept up my neck and cheeks. Did Jess _know?_

Caleb looked around the room, trying to be discrete. "You didn't sneak out because of…" he trailed off, referring to last night.

"No!" I fibbed quickly, hoping he didn't notice that my left hand shook. "God, no! Last night was perfect." I plastered a smile onto my face, trying to appear as normal as I could.

Caleb smiled back and I breathed in relief.

"Did you know that eighty-nine percent of all young voters when recently surveyed said that the recent economic slump has forced them to put their life on hold?" I blurted, trying to change the subject to something else. Whenever I was nervous or stressed, I'd blurt out random facts like an idiot.

Before Caleb could respond, Gil approached me, a forty-something, tall, dark-haired man who always seemed to be wearing expensive suits and sleek black shiny loafers. "Gil, what's up?" I asked him.

"This was updated this morning." He handed me a thick file folder with the words Opposition Research Candidate Phillips typed on the front, and the pages were bookmarked with colored labels. "It's everything you wanna know about the Phillips' family and then some."

"I will eat, live, and breathe this," I assured him. "Thanks, Gil."

Gil walked over to Jess at the far end of the table, giving her a Manila file folder filled with criminal records inside. "And these are the police records we obtained from your father about the Phillips' family. I thought you might like to look at them."

"Actually, I think I'm going to study this upstairs," Jess told him, taking the file. "It's a little chatty in here." She gathered up her stuff and then brushed by without even saying a word to me.

I frowned. Jess had been acting strange all morning and now she wouldn't even speak to me, let alone look at me. I had the feeling that maybe she was mad at me, but I couldn't figure out why. Unless…Jess had seen Caleb and I this morning.

My heart raced. _Oh, God_. What if she had seen us together in bed and thought I was sleeping with him? What if she told Hanna? How was I going to explain this to her? A million thoughts ran through my mind, causing the anxiety in my belly to grow stronger.

After Jess left the room, Caleb closed his laptop and I put the file folder on the table in front of me.

Caleb widened his eyes. "Wow. That is a thick file."

"Yeah!" I agreed. "Okay, Candidate Phillips."

I opened the folder and started scanning through the pages of the small facts about Yvonne Phillips, the opposing candidate's daughter. According to the file, Yvonne graduated from Georgetown University the same year I did with a JD degree and was voted class president in high school. Not to mention she had scored the highest GPA with honors at the top of her class. A sour feeling swelled in my stomach. It was unnerving that there was another high-achieving girl like me. Yvonne was probably reading through my file, bored because I was plain and unappealing compared to her. She wouldn't even consider me a threat. Yvonne was smart and ambitious while I was an über anal stalker-victim freak.

"She gave the commencement speech at Wesleyan before earning her JD at Georgetown," I read out loud. "Her favorite ice cream is actually sorbet and she often binges on candy corn while on the campaign trail."

I flipped through the pages as Caleb looked next to me at the investigation research. "Oh, candy corn? That's a serious candy addiction." He made a disgusted face.

"Yeah! And here is a recon on her family." I showed him the page detailing Yvonne's family history. "I mean, we have to assume that they know as much about us as we know about them."

Pasted on the left page was a photograph of a gorgeous, dark-haired girl in a red, blue and white checkered shirt with her arms folded across her chest, a confident smile on her face. Her mocha eyes glittered, her long dark brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect loose waves, and her caramel-colored skin was smooth and flawless.

I stared at the photo sadly. It was Yvonne herself. She was beautiful and perfect, and everything I wasn't. How could I compete with that? She was probably the kind of girl that got accepted into Ivy League schools like Princeton and always had a rich, handsome boyfriend by her side.

Caleb paused awkwardly and a strange look passed over his face. "I know it's a little awkward considering."

I turned to him. "You said Yvonne was nice, right?" When Caleb came back from New York, he'd told me that he met Yvonne and that he thought she was very sexy, but she was one of those spoiled rich girls who always got everything she wanted.

"Yeah, we've only hung out a couple of times, but she seems okay." Something unreadable flickered in Caleb's eyes.

I nodded. "Cool. Um, if I didn't think this town was small when I left, it certainly is now."

Caleb drummed his fingers on the table nervously. "Hey, um, I was, uh, thinking about taking a drive to see Toby."

"Um…" I looked away, feeling my stomach tighten in nervous knots. "Yeah, I'm cool with that."

I moved over to my laptop sitting on the other side of the kitchen island to get more information on the opposing candidate, and looked up Yvonne Phillips' admission on Georgetown's website. But there she was, head of her class. Caleb sidled up next to me.

"Um…so since we, uh…" he stammered. "I… Should I get my own place?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Is that what you want?"

"Is that what you want?" he asked.

"No, you don't have to do that," I said. "Actually, I was thinking of moving into my old room."

Caleb's face fell. "Oh."

"It's just that with the election and everything, I thought it might be easier," I went on. "This way you won't have to sleep on the couch."

Caleb laughed uneasily. "Yeah, that would be unbearable."

I already regretted what we'd done, and not just because he was Hanna's ex-boyfriend and Toby's best friend.

I took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. "Look, last night was a mistake. It can never happen again."

Caleb frowned. "Why not? I thought you said it was perfect?"

"Um, I know, it's just… Hanna's my best friend. I can't do this to her."

"I know, but–"

"But nothing. We're friends. It's best that it stays that way. It didn't mean anything."

" It does mean something," Caleb said in a strong, persistent voice.

"Maybe to you, but not to me." I looked at him apologetically. "I think we should just stay friends. I'm sorry."

Caleb looked defeated. Grabbing my computer, I turned toward the staircase leading upstairs to my old bedroom and climbed up. It was best to steer clear of Caleb, especially in light of whatever had happened between us. As I moved down the hallway, I wondered how things could have gotten so complicated.

I stopped when I came to a familiar white bedroom door. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room hadn't changed since I moved out five years ago. A maple four-poster bed stood in the center against the wall, still perfectly made as if I had never left. A red leather chaise-lounge sat opposite the matching armchair by the bed, and a mahogany-wooden desk was cluttered with my horse competition ribbons and trophies. A big, fabric-covered inspiration wall was tacked up above, jam-packed with various paint swatches, magazine clippings of interior designers and intellectuals, and wallpaper samples. My creamy toile-duvet on the bed was covered with several floral and toile pillows. A pink and red abstract painting hung on the floral-wallpaper wall. The only thing missing was my rocking chair.

A huge lump lodged itself in my throat. Toby and I made love for the first time in this room. We'd talked about having a baby of our own here.

I gazed around the bedroom, allowing the memories to invade me. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and to my surprise, I saw Jess sitting in the lounge-chair, typing on her laptop. The police report file papers were scattered next to her in neat piles.

I moved closer to her to her tentatively. "Hey."

"Hi." Jess kept her eyes glued onto the computer screen.

I stared at her, confused by her strange behavior. Her expression was hostile, furious. I'd never seen her act so cold towards me before. Maybe she resented me because my mom had appointed me as the head strategy planner on the campaign team and she somehow felt threatened. I tried to assure myself that it couldn't possibly have anything to do with me.

"Um, are you mad at me?" I finally asked her. "You've barely spoken to me all morning."

Jess met my eyes and pressed her lips together tightly, as if she was trying really hard not to say what she was thinking. Since when did she keep her mouth shut about her opinions? She was the most stubborn, strong-willed, fiercely opinionated person that I knew.

"I can only take the silent treatment from you for so long," I continued. "I've tried analyzing why you're being so cold towards me and the only thing I can think of is that you somehow feel threatened by my position in this campaign, but that doesn't make any sense either. I mean, you earned that job, Jess. I just want to know why you're treating me like some–"

Jess finished the thought for me. "You slept with Caleb?"

I paled. "What?"

"Oh, don't even pretend to be innocent," she snapped. "I saw you two together this morning. How could you do that to Hanna?"

I lowered my eyes. "It's complicated."

"It's not complicated," Jess yelled, "it's simple. What you're doing is wrong."

"I know that!" I cried. "It's not what you think, okay? I just need some time."

Jess scoffed. "I was hoping you would do the right thing and end it with him, but I guess I was wrong."

Her words stung. "I thought of all people, you would be the last person to judge me."

"Well, it's really none of my business," she said curtly. "Who am I to judge for jumping into bed with your best friend's ex-boyfriend?"

"It's not like that," I insisted desperately.

"Then what is it like?" she demanded. "Look, I know I'm not exactly perfect when it comes to making choices in relationships, but if I had to choose between dating the guy I liked and my best friend, I'd choose my friend. Apparently you wouldn't."

"Jess, you don't understand."

Anger flashed in her chocolate-brown eyes. "You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you can be with Caleb. You're ruining our friendships over, what, some crush?"

I blinked. It as if she'd just slapped me. "Hanna gave me permission for Caleb and I to be together," I explained.

"Is that supposed to make it okay?" Jess shrieked. "What happened to 'we'll never date each other's ex-boyfriends?'"

"I can explain," I said quietly.

Jess stared at me in astonishment. "Does Hanna know you two are sleeping together?"

I looked away shamefully, feeling my cheeks growing hot.

Jess clenched her jaw, quivering with rage. "That's what I thought."

Tears prickled at my eyes. "I never stole Caleb from Hanna. They were broken up."

Jess glared at me. "Is that how you justify it? Or maybe you just won't own up to your actions. When Toby broke up with you, something inside you darkened. It changed you, hardened your heart. I mean, you systematically flirt with the next guy you lay your eyes on whenever you and Toby are going through a rough patch and then feign surprise when people resent you for it. And deep down you still want to win him back so you can prove that you're the overachiever. It's all just a game to you, but it's not for Toby. He actually loves you and you're just toying with his heart."

"That's not true," I pleaded. "Jess, you have no idea how much this has been killing me. It _kills_ me."

Jess looked at me with a mixture of anger and betrayal. "If you want things to go back to the way they were, Spencer, then you need to end this thing with Caleb. Now."

And with that, Jess turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her angrily. She didn't stop, not even when I ran out into the hall and called after her.

"Jess, wait!" I pleaded.

But Jess was already gone.

I stood in the hallway, biting back tears. Steeling myself, I returned to my old room and opened the door to the bathroom. I went up to the sink and pressed a wet washcloth to my face, washing away my tears. It wasn't until the tears cleared from my eyes that I felt a shooting pain explode through my thighs, and I winced in agony.

I pushed down my navy-blue pencil skirt and looked down at my body to examine myself. I let out a gasp of shock. There were patches of dark blue and purplish bruises all over my inner thighs. A trickle of something dark and red had slid down the curve of my leg, caking against my skin. Was that…blood?

My stomach spun. Was this from last night? Did Caleb hurt me?

I wondered how long I'd been bleeding, how I could have possibly slept with all that pain throughout the night and not notice. Or if Caleb did hurt me, whether he was the one who made me bleed. I shuddered at the thought. The only thing that I was absolutely sure of was that I couldn't seem to shake the gnawing, heaving feeling that something horrible had happened, pressing down against my chest and twisting my gut.

I soaked the washcloth with warm water underneath the sink and dabbed it at my leg to wipe away the blood. After scrubbing gently at the dried blood, I pulled my skirt back up around my waist.

I stared at my bruises, and in that moment, a vision flashed in front of my eyes. _Caleb holding me down against the bed as I tried kicking him to break free. Violent screams tore from my throat, piercing the air._

I blinked several times in confusion, feeling my world crashing down around me. Whatever I had just remembered disappeared as quickly as it had come. It felt like the ground was crumbling beneath me, and I was falling into the black nothingness. What was the vision that I just saw? Was it from last night? And why did I feel so unhinged and scared…and dirty?

I closed my eyes, trying to search for something in my memories, _anything_ that could explain all this. The memory of that night was completely muddled, and I struggled to hold onto the images that shook in my mind. I remembered coming back to the barn, freaked out because I thought Ezra had used my old college essay to murder Charles. Caleb had held my hand in his and told me I couldn't possibly have done such a thing, assuring me that I wasn't a bad person.

And then I saw myself much later, sitting on the couch with Caleb as we drank beers, my eyes red from crying. But then I told him how great of a friend he'd been to me, and he leaned in to kiss me. We fell onto the couch as Caleb pushed me down with crushing force, he took off my dress, and then… _nothing_. There was a black hole in my memory that I couldn't reach, something bad. And yet, I couldn't remember what had happened that night. Had I passed out? Did something happen between Caleb and I?

My emotions were chaotic. Something felt terribly wrong.

Unfortunately, I knew the answers weren't going to be that easy. I knew I needed to go back to the barn if I had any hope of finding the truth. My body shaking, I headed back downstairs and pushed through the French doors, crossing the vast, green lawn to the barn.

Jess

"Thanks for letting me crash here. I just couldn't stay at the Hastings' a second longer." I stood in Sasha's princess-themed bedroom of the French Manor Inn, a stone chateau-style cottage in north Pennsylvania that had once been a carriage house back in the 1970s.

The room was fragrant with lavender and lilacs. It had a thick-carpeted floor, a huge king-size, white canopy four-poster bed, a comfy Victorian floral sofa, and a Jacuzzi in the corner. The innkeeper had converted the Main House into castle rooms for rich out-of-town guests and put in a small and intimate spa on the lower floors.

I pulled out my laptop from my bag and the in-depth police records of the Phillips' family that Gil had given me this morning, and laid them out on the bed.

"What, did Spencer and Caleb's sexual energy implode the room?" Sasha joked, leaning against the bedpost.

I cringed at the image of Spencer and Caleb in bed together, and red-hot fury rippled through my veins.

"You're doing it again." I turned to see Sasha raising a perfectly raised eyebrow at me.

I feigned an innocent expression. "What?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "That thing you do when you want to tell me something, but you're not sure you should."

I sighed. "Spencer's just really been disappointing me lately."

"Like what?" Sasha asked curiously.

"I caught her and Caleb in bed this morning."

Sasha's grey eyes widened. "Wow. I knew it was only a matter of time before they sealed the deal."

My mood shifted to irritation. "Can you not do this right now? It's been a really rough morning."

Sasha's face softened. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I don't know." I shut my eyes, letting out a ragged breath. "What am I supposed to tell Hanna?"

Sasha sat down on the edge of the bed. "The truth. That her so-called best friend is sleeping with her ex-boyfriend." She noticed the police files on top of the duvet-comforter and picked up one of the pages, frowning. "What's this?"

"Oh, that's just something that Gil gave me for the opposing candidate," I explained. "He wants me to look over the police records and see if I can find anything about the Phillips' family."

"How incriminating." Sasha's eyes shone.

I gave her a look. "It's not like they're much better. We still don't know who posted that blog about Spencer from the other campaign."

"You'll figure it out," Sasha said in a confident voice. "You always do."

"I've tried everything. It's like whoever posted that blog blocked the signal so that I can't gain access to it. Not even Caleb can crack it."

"Maybe it's Yvonne," she offered. "She is dating Toby, after all."

I stared at her in shock. "What?"

Sasha creased her forehead. "Yvonne is Toby's girlfriend. They've been dating for months. I thought you knew?"

"How do you know that?" I asked.

Sasha shrugged. "Christine Phillips is my mom's most important client. She told her about how Yvonne dating a cop looks good for her campaign."

Sasha's mom, Olivia Stefani, was one of the richest designers in the fashion industry and threw herself ambitiously into everything she did, providing Sasha with everything she could ever want–money, gorgeous clothes, a big mansion in the wealthiest, most privileged town of Ohio, and a prestigious reputation. She'd climbed her way up the social ladder and built her glamorous and fancy fashion designer firm from the ground up, and owned multiple other upscale clothing stores around the world such as New York, Paris, London, Italy, Tokyo Germany, and Switzerland. It was a wonder Olivia wasn't President.

I thought for a moment. "And how long did you say they were dating?"

"Six months at least." She frowned. "Why?"

And then it hit me. "What if Yvonne is only using Toby so that her mom can win the election?"

Sasha gave me a disbelieving smirk. "You're saying Yvonne is dating Spencer's ex-boyfriend so that her cutthroat mom can become Pennsylvania's new senator? Veronica didn't start running until a few months ago."

"Think about it," I said. "Someone posts a blog about Spencer's murder charges and conveniently Yvonne happens to be dating Toby, the guy who knows Spencer better than anyone. I mean, Yvonne has every motive to want to hurt her. Spencer was Toby's first love."

"But Toby would never tell Yvonne anything that would hurt Spencer," Sasha pointed out.

"Who says he told her?" I lifted an eyebrow, indicating as much.

She still looked unconvinced. "Okay, I think you've been drinking too much of the Hastings' Kool-Aide. And besides, I thought you were mad at Spencer?"

"This isn't about Spencer, it's about Toby. And I will be damned if I let another girl break his heart."

"So what do you suggest?" Sasha said sarcastically. "We break into Yvonne's house and crack her super-secret vault?"

I lowered my voice. "Well, Caleb has computer equipment that can give us easy access to any files."

Sasha narrowed her eyes. " _No_."

"I'm not saying we ask him for help. We can sneak into the barn and use his computer to trace the blogger." I leveled my eyes to hers. "If Yvonne really is responsible for posting that blog, then we need to take her down before she tries to sabotage Veronica's campaign again."

Sasha moved over to the hotel room's cherry-wooden dresser to grab her enormous purple Gucci purse. "The things I do for you."

After fighting through the highway traffic, Sasha pulled her Porsche up to the Hastings' large, two-story Victorian, which had its own mosaic-tiled pool and hot tub. The barn was just ahead. The driveway was empty, and Spencer and Caleb's cars were gone. With any luck, Veronica's staff members would already be in Philadelphia, prepping for the next campaign rally.

Sasha parked the car and glanced at me. "Are you sure about this?"

I thought of Caleb, of all the times he'd used and manipulated the people that I loved, and stared determinedly at the barn. "Definitely."

Sasha fidgeted in her seat. "Look, I don't even like Yvonne. Are you sure you're not just being paranoid?"

"I'm telling you, Yvonne is the blogger," I insisted. "Now let's find Caleb's computer before he gets back."

Sasha and I tiptoed up to the barn and opened the front door. It was empty. Silently, we climbed up the ladder that led upstairs to the attic. Inside, it smelled like dust and cedar. It had a slanted ceiling, bamboo floors, and a small teak desk with Caleb's big, black laptop that he used for hacking was on top.

Sasha shrugged out of her black Armani embossed leather jacket and started rummaging through the hardware parts on the desk. She picked up a blue LE Sniffer USB dotted with complicated firmware. "I see Caleb has gotten craftier with his technology since New York."

"That's an LE Sniffer," I explained, taking it from her.

I sat down in the desk chair and opened Caleb's laptop. It was protected with a password login. And knowing Caleb, he wouldn't just leave his password lying around in plain sight.

Sasha leaned over the computer. "How do you even know his password?"

"That's easy," I responded. "I crack his password."

I opened the side drawer and reached in for the Forensic Password Accelerator buried at the bottom among a bunch of papers and files. No doubt Caleb had stolen it from the security company that he'd worked for before getting fired. I inserted the little black box into the computer and waited while the software program loaded. A bunch of IP addresses appeared across the screen, gathering the data as it encrypted the code.

After a couple of minutes, the lock screen disappeared and opened to Caleb's desktop. There were a few folder icons on the right side. One of them was labeled, _Spencer_.

Sasha pointed at it. "What's that?"

I clicked on the folder. There were dozens of intimate photos of Spencer inside wearing lingerie. Sasha and I leaned forward. One picture showed Spencer lying on her old bed in a compromising position with a seductive pout on her face, and she was naked except for a pair of lacy cheekies resting dangerously low on her hips. Another was of her wearing only Toby's blue plaid button-up shirt and her skimpy black cotton panties, crouched in a cat-like position with her knees and hands flat out on the mattress. Certain parts of Spencer's body were focused, like her bare breasts and partially naked butt. It looked like porn.

 _Creep,_ I thought to myself.

Sasha scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Ew, perve!"

I frowned at the pictures. Not only were they proactive, but I could've sworn I'd seen those same photos from somewhere before–on Toby's phone, when I'd caught him and Spencer sexting each other. Why were Toby's pictures of Spencer on Caleb's computer?

Before I could dwell on it any further, I shut the folder and plugged the LE Sniffer into the USB slot on the side of the laptop. Within minutes, a black window popped up onto the screen and a series of neon green computer codes flashed in front of my eyes. After a moment, an underscore symbol blinked below the codes, waiting. I quickly typed in the correct email address I'd obtained from the user's blog website and hit the ENTER key.

Sasha and I watched as the illegal hacking program produced several garbled letters and numbers, trying to detect the information. Finally, a single profile window loaded onto the screen. A long list of personal details was typed inside the file along with the person's birthdate, their past job occupations, and education history. I gazed at the initials of their current employer on the profile. _A.D._

There was a date next to it from three years ago, when Charles first became A. _September 1, 2014_.

"Who the hell is A.D.?" I asked, staring at the name.

Sasha furrowed her brow. "I don't know."

Then I noticed a familiar name at the top of the file. My head spun, hoping I was imagining it.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

I turned to Sasha. Her face bore the same scared, horrified expression.

Toby

Late Friday afternoon, I stood next to my best friend, Caleb Rivers, at the compound of the house I was building for Spencer. It didn't seem that long ago that she'd been here, helping me install the electrical outlets. I grabbed two beer bottles from the cooler and handed one of them to Caleb. He popped off the cap with his thumb and took a swig.

"Thanks." Caleb gazed at the unfinished structure of the house and looked at me skeptically. "So you're really doing this all by yourself?"

I hit him playfully on the shoulder. "Yvonne's been helping."

The truth was, when I tried to teach Yvonne how to use a power saw, she screamed and almost lost her fingers in the process, freaked out because she was afraid I'd accidently chop off my own fingers as well. Finally, I had her use a hammer instead, but she ended up hitting her thumb instead of the nails. Spencer, on the other hand, handled the saw carefully when I showed her until she got the hang of it. And when I was finally comfortable with her using the power saw on her own, she'd moved it with precision and ease as if she had been doing it for years.

"Please, I've banged my thumb more times than I've hit the nails." Yvonne emerged from the trailer just then, looking stunning in a short-sleeved pink and navy-blue Peter Pan collar dress and heels, the perfect image of a politician's daughter.

I smiled, beaming at her as she approached. Yvonne and I had been dating for six months now when we met in the spring, during an armed robbery. I'd been at my desk, sorting through the public fines and tickets that had to be paid off, when a call came into the station from a woman saying that someone had broken into her house. I was needed at the scene. The police responded immediately to the call and several squad cars raced to the massive Georgian mansion in Brookhaven. When I'd arrived, the robber was dressed in dark clothes and had a black ski mask concealed over his face, aiming a gun at Yvonne and her parents. I used the training I'd learned from the Police Academy to disarm the robber and helped the hostages out of the house. Afterwards, Yvonne had thanked me for saving her life and asked me out for dinner. At first, I refused–the wounds of my breakup with Spencer were still fresh–but then my father intervened and insisted I see her, threatening to take away my inheritance and everything Spencer ever gave me if I didn't. The Phillips' were one of the most powerful and wealthy families in Pennsylvania. Yvonne's mother, Christine Phillips, had served as an influential state senator for two years and was highly respected by the community. And my dad wanted to use Christine's reputation to help boost his business in the car dealership company he owned in Philadelphia.

Yvonne was gorgeous, strong, intelligent, confident, and driven–exactly the kind of girl I was looking for. She was a successful lobbyist in Brookhaven and she chased after her dreams with a fiery passion. Her family name and accomplishments were important to her. My parents adored the way Yvonne held herself in social circles and they treated her like family, hoping that I'd one day marry her.

Though I had rebelled against dating her at the start, I found myself drawn to Yvonne's bubbly personality and her ambition, and I had grown to care for her. Within only a few weeks, Yvonne had quickly become one of the most important people in my life. But she wasn't Spencer. And it wasn't that Yvonne was a bad person, because she wasn't. But I had the sense that she was one of those pretty, spoiled rich girls who was used to getting what she wanted. She was also superficial in the way she viewed people and preferred the materialistic things in life. In Yvonne's world, if someone weren't rich, beautiful, or popular, then she'd deem them unworthy of her. Spencer was different. She put others before herself and always saw the best in people. But Spencer was also tenacious and fought fiercely for the people she cared about no matter what, traits that Yvonne wasn't capable of possessing. These were one of the many reasons why I had to break up with Yvonne today. Spencer's return to Rosewood only confirmed that.

While I didn't want to hurt Yvonne, I just couldn't see a future with her like I did with Spencer. And it wouldn't be fair to Yvonne to keep her around when I had stronger feelings for someone else. And Yvonne felt it, too. She'd told me once, "When you look at me, it feels like you're with someone else. It's like you're here, but you're not really here."

I'd denied it, assuring her that she was the only one I wanted to be with, and I kissed her. But I knew it was true; I was still in love with Spencer and I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Noticing Caleb, Yvonne pranced over to him and they hugged briefly. "Hey, Caleb."

He returned her hug. "Hey, how are you?" Caleb paused. "I'm with you, by the way."

Yvonne looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

She moved over to me to wrap her arms around my waist and rested her head on my chest, snuggling against me. I tentatively pressed my cheek against her head and put an arm around her, holding her close. While it was comforting to be holding Yvonne, it felt strange somehow. Wrong.

Caleb turned to Yvonne. "Yeah, I mean, I can jack a mainframe with a screwdriver, but you give me power tools, I am the dumbest guy in the room."

Yvonne shuddered. "When my eyes see a power saw, my mind sees a finger with no hands.

"Yeah, and a chainsaw takes me straight to no arms," Caleb added.

"How about a wood chipper?" she suggested.

"Hmm," he mused, looking thoughtful.

Suddenly, Caleb and Yvonne exchanged a look and huge grins broke out across their faces. "Fargo! Fargo!"

They burst out laughing, as if they were telling each other a secret joke that no one else but them knew about.

I felt a small pang of jealousy. Why couldn't Yvonne be like that with me, so carefree and giddy? And I couldn't help but wonder if she liked Caleb more than me. It wasn't as though it would be the first time Caleb tried to steal my girl from me.

After Spencer and I broke up, Caleb started visiting her in Washington more frequently and I had the suspicion that he was trying to make a move on her. I tried calling her at home and, even though I'd always been able to reach her in the past, more than once she didn't pick up. I tried to convince myself that she was probably out with friends, that she couldn't possibly be with Caleb, but I couldn't help my mind from wandering. When she would finally answer, I'd casually mention Caleb for information, but her answers were subdued over the phone. Most of our conversations consisted of our new lives since we'd been apart and they were always brief. And I hated how jealous I felt imagining Spencer with another man. It drove me crazy.

"And I see mulch," I said, feeling annoyed.

Yvonne looked up at me. "That's because you don't watch TV or go to the movies with me." She pouted, and I thought I heard an irritated edge to her tone.

"That's not entirely true," I insisted, even though I knew it was. When Spencer and I were together, we would watch black-and-white romantic films at my old loft, snuggling on the couch all day, and kiss afterward until we fell asleep.

"Mm." Yvonne didn't look convinced.

"We stream," I explained to Caleb proudly.

"Yes," she agreed. "It's embarrassing, but we've been binging on _The Tonight Show_."

"Why is it embarrassing?" he asked. "Fallon is hilarious."

Yvonne and I chuckled, nearly doubling over with laughter as we recalled making fun of Jimmy Fallon while watching _The Tonight Show_ one night.

"What?" Caleb asked us, noticing the amused expressions on our faces.

Yvonne adjusted the strap of her enormous Michael Kors purse higher onto her shoulder and turned to me. "Yeah, you explain it. If I'm late for this prep meeting, my mom's gonna kill me."

I leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the town hall," Caleb told her.

"Yeah, I've heard you joined the Hastings' campaign," Yvonne said cheerfully.

"Yep."

"What?" I frowned, feeling a sour feeling clench in my stomach. "You're-you're…you're working for Veronica?" The thought of Caleb working for Veronica Hastings, being able to see Spencer every day, filled me with an overpowering jealousy.

Yvonne nodded, oblivious to my jealous reaction. "I found out this morning."

"Yeah, she is kind of a tough lady to say no to," Caleb said.

"Well, I look forward to finally meeting Spencer." Yvonne glanced between Caleb and I. "Bye! Bye!"

My stomach twisted with knots. The thought of Yvonne and Spencer meeting was like my worst nightmare come to life.

I took a long swig of my beer, staring after Yvonne as she hurried off. Thinking about Spencer while I was with her made me feel incredibly guilty. Yvonne was an amazing girl, and she deserved so much better.

"Wow, when I'm falling for a girl, I, uh usually cook her a meal," Caleb teased. "You are building her a house."

I wanted to tell Caleb that the house for Spencer, not Yvonne, and that I was going to do whatever it took to win her back. But I held back. I was afraid he'd think it was pathetic for wanting Spencer back.

I shook my head, walking over to my worktable. "So how about you? You, uh… You cooking for anyone?"

Caleb looked away and swallowed. His face was tense.

"Does that have to do with Hanna?" I asked gently. "You're still holding onto that?"

When Caleb and Hanna broke up, he'd been devastated and closed himself off from love. No one else could ever measure up to Hanna.

"Uh, actually I connected with someone a few years ago," he stuttered. "The timing wasn't right and it was just… It-it felt really complicated. That's why I'm here."

I stared at him. "For someone who's a straight shooter you're really talking in circles."

Caleb took a deep breath and met my eyes directly. "It's Spencer."

My face fell, and suddenly the world around me seemed to stop. Those two words were like a blow to the gut. I couldn't say anything at first, too shocked to speak.

"Oh!" I looked away, avoiding Caleb's eyes.

"We-we've just been spending a lot of time together as-as friends and…" Caleb continued. "Look, if-if you're not okay with this, just say the word."

Anger froze me in place, and I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "How does she feel about it?"

Caleb wouldn't look at me. "I think the same."

My emotions ranged from concern for Spencer to outright rage hearing the insincerity in his voice. She'd never once expressed wanting anything more than friendship with him, not even when we'd broken up. which made me even more worried and confused.

Swallowing deeply, I furrowed my brow and jutted my chin, trying to gather the little strength I had left. "Well, if it's what you both want, then it's not complicated," I murmured sadly.

"Well, I guess we'll see how it goes," Caleb said boisterously, flaring my anger.

I nodded, then took a long sip of my beer, numbing the agonizing pain in my heart.

 _She has feelings for someone else_. A mixture of pain and fury and despair tangled my insides, and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't fathom the idea of Spencer being with Caleb and it made me sick. But Spencer was beautiful and amazing in every way, and guys would have to be blind not to see that. Even if she didn't choose Caleb, she would make someone the luckiest guy on the planet.

As far as I was concerned, a man's alpha male instincts never failed to kick in. Men remained aggressive, possessive, territorial, striving to dominate, trying to control the people around them. Especially women. Caleb telling me about him and Spencer proved that. Anger and hurt flooded my body, feeling betrayed more than anything else. It felt as though Spencer had ripped out my heart and destroyed everything that mattered most dearly to me. I hated her, and I hated Caleb for stealing her away from me, the person whom I'd once thought was my best friend. How could he do this to me? How could he move in on the love of my life, the one person in this world who mattered most to me? I yearned to run my fist into his face and beat the crap out of him.

But despite my breaking heart, I longed to see Spencer, to talk to her. A part of me desperately hoped it wasn't true, that Caleb was just making the whole thing up, refusing to believe she'd do this to me. Not when we'd just talked about our future and being together forever. I could feel the hot hatred burning inside of me, quickly followed by confusion. Had Spencer just said those things to spare my feelings? Was anything she'd told me true?

"You wanna put me to work?" Caleb asked, breaking me out of my enraged thoughts. "I mean, I-I suck at power tools, but I can probably pound a few nails."

"No, I gotta go," I told him. "I'm meeting Yvonne's parents for lunch. So I should probably go change." I looked down at my unbuttoned flannel shirt and grey Henley.

"Okay, well, thanks for the beer," Caleb said.

"Okay. Anytime."

I extended my hand out to his and pulled him in towards me for a hug, patting him on the back. We awkwardly hugged, then I headed for the trailer, my chest aching. I turned around to glare at Caleb's back as he walked away, overcome with anguish and fury from his betrayal.

Spencer

Okay. Whatever I had imagined had happened couldn't be worse than the reality.

I stood in the middle of the converted barn, staring nervously at my bedroom door. After I'd rushed out of my mom's house, I ran into the barn and locked the door behind me, making sure no one could follow me in.

Taking a deep breath, I slid open the door and stepped cautiously inside my bedroom. The curtains were pulled back, allowing the sunlight to filter into the room. My black padded bra hung from the bedpost and my picture of Toby still sat on my nightstand. Nothing in the room looked out of the ordinary; everything was where I'd left it the night before, untouched. Except, of course, for Caleb's clothes that lay in a haphazard heap on the floor.

I stared at them, my throat tight. This was bizarre. Caleb always slept on the couch in the living room. Did he sleep in here last night, next to me in bed? And then there was the discarded bra… Did I take off my clothes in my sleep? Was I sleepwalking again? Was there something I wasn't remembering? I tossed my bra into the laundry hamper, then checked under my bed. And that's when I noticed the crimson-red stains covering the sheets.

I grabbed them slowly, trying to inhale calming breaths. My hands trembled as I examined the sheets in my hands. It was blood, the exact same shade of liquid that I had found on my leg. _Oh, God… Does this mean…?_

My head started to spin dizzily. The sheets slipped through my fingers and I let out a small, pained yelp of disbelief.

The sight of splattered blood on my sheets made something in my mind click, like a key finding the right lock. Suddenly, several images flashed through my head all at once, blurring and shimmering in and out of focus. The continuation of the strange, fuzzy memories from the night I couldn't remember began flooding back to me. I saw Caleb forcing me down, shoving me into the corner of the couch. I had screamed and called out Toby's name, begging him to stop. I smelled the smoky ashes from the fireplace and felt Caleb's hot breath on my face, heavy with alcohol. I realized we had been drinking. I heard the terrifying _riiiippppp_ as Caleb tore off my dress. And then he yanked off my panties, leaving me naked and vulnerable. Big, fat tears rolled down my cheeks.

The familiar feeling of helplessness and terror washed over my body. I saw myself kicking Caleb, trying to get him off me, but he was too strong. Something dark and frightening slowly filled his eyes. All the strength in my limbs melted away and I went limp, too tired to fight anymore. Then Caleb heaved himself roughly onto my naked body and thrusted into me with all his strength, moving against me rapidly.

I felt my mouth go dry with fear, a thick, pasty sensation forming on my tongue that made my stomach heave. It couldn't be true. Caleb wouldn't try to hurt me. But as I looked around the room, at my bloodied sheets and my torn dress, the crime scene before me was too much to ignore.

The horrible feeling from this morning returned and suddenly I knew it was true. Caleb raped me.

 _Yvonne Phillips graduated from Franklin Regional High School top of the class with Honors and got a scholarship to Georgetown Universit_ y, I read to myself. _She then went on to earn her Bachelor of Science degree, Master's in Business Administration, and began working in the business world in Brookhaven, Pennsylvania, the town where she grew up._

I sat at the small, round patio table outside of The Brew, reading over Yvonne's list of achievements from the campaign research.

With a sigh, I put aside the pile of papers and reached for Yvonne's file. _Just read it,_ I told myself. But a small nagging voice at the back of my head told me that opening Yvonne's file would be no different than opening Pandora's box. I drummed my fingers hesitantly against the file, then opened it up. I flipped to the middle of the packet and stared at the photo of Yvonne. As I turned over the right side page, my heart stopped. There was a document on Toby and in the bottom left corner was a photograph of him in his police uniform. Why was there a file on Toby? And what did he have to do with Yvonne?

But when my eyes scanned the page, my chest ached fiercely. Underneath the second paragraph in Yvonne's info read, _Toby Cavanaugh bought an engagement ring at Weiland's Jewelers._

 _No,_ I thought. _This wasn't real. This couldn't be happening._

The sentence zeroed into clear focus like a magnifying glass. Then I spotted the words _Plans to propose at a family lunch_ and _Boyfriend_ and my heart wrenched with a terrible agony. It felt as though someone had stabbed me in the chest and torn out my heart. Yvonne was Toby's girlfriend?

I stared sadly at Toby's kind, handsome face in the photo, feeling numb. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. That was why Toby didn't want to be with me. And that was why he'd acted so strange at the house, because he was dating the opposing candidate's daughter. He felt awkward knowing that my mom was running against his girlfriend's mother.

Of course Toby would want to marry her. Yvonne was a goddess. She was beautiful and perfect and everything I wasn't. And she didn't carry A baggage with her wherever she went. I swallowed the big lump that had formed in my throat, wondering how I could've been so stupid to let him go. Toby was proposing to someone else and it was all my fault. I'd pushed him away; it was my fault that he'd left me.

I longed to go to Toby and tell him how much I loved him. But something in my gut told me that this was the end of us forever. Our love story was over.

I felt empty–a shell of the person I used to be. _We'll have a life together,_ he'd promised me. That was the reason why I was still breathing. But all of that was gone now.

Betrayal and anger rushed through my body remembering his promise. It was a promise Toby never intended to keep, one that was broken the moment he'd made it. And I hated him. I hated him for leaving me, I hated the way he made me feel, but most of all for letting me believe that he still loved me when he was clearly happy with someone else. Had it all been a lie? But none of that mattered because Toby didn't want me. Maybe he never did. He was just waiting for the perfect girl to come around so he could escape the heavy burden of having to be with someone like me. I was too hard to love, too complicated. The realization gripped me in pure anguish.

Toby could buy an engagement ring and pretend everything we had didn't matter to him, but it wouldn't change what happened between us the moment we met. He'd changed me, made me feel beautiful and alive, turning me into a better version of myself. Everything was brighter when Toby was around, immersing the world in kaleidoscopic colors. But I was not beautiful, and Toby didn't love me. My world had darkened, leaving me cold and alone in my own personal nightmare. There was no color, no light, no goodness.

Suddenly, a bright flashing of lights caught my attention somewhere nearby, distracting me momentarily from the pain. Then I heard the sound of a camera shutter clicking and looked out at the street. About fifteen feet away, a car was parked at the corner of the block.

I stared, noticing a black, small Saturn. The motor was still running, but the windows were tinted and I couldn't tell if there was anyone inside. And I couldn't ignore the skin-crawling sensation that someone was watching me.

Something flashed from behind the passenger side window, like someone was taking a picture. I pushed aside Yvonne's file and stood up to get a good look at the car. I saw a vague silhouette of a man behind the steering wheel, but before I could take a step closer, the flashing stopped. At that very moment, the driver inched the car forward and then sped away.

I slowly sat back down in my chair, wondering if the driver was someone from the press. The Phillips' campaign was doing everything in their power to ruin my mother's senator run. My stomach churned. Whoever it was, they had taken pictures of me.

I checked my watch–it was eleven-thirty. I had to meet Ashley Marin, Hanna's mom, at The Radley Hotel to help organize my mom's town hall meeting.

After parking in the secure lot, I made my way through The Radley Hotel and searched the crowd of hotel guests for Gil, spotting him standing in the middle of the lobby, busily typing something on his phone. He wore a black suit and navy-blue tie, and his dark hair was smoothed back.

Gil had rented out the space for the town hall meeting tonight, and he'd asked me to come early to discuss the arrangements for the event. Although Ms. Marin had planned the whole thing, she was nowhere to be seen.

I walked up to Gil. "Hey, Gil."

He looked up when he saw me approach. "Hey. Look, uh, Ashley's running late, but we can still walk through the event."

I followed Gil into the lounging area as he went over the seating placement. "So you and Yvonne are going to be sitting here," he began, pointing to the front of the room where a bunch of round, glass dining tables and light-grey tufted armchairs sat. "We're expecting a decent turn out, so we're gonna get some extra chairs."

Then I noticed a good-looking guy pacing from across the room, with his hand stuffed nervously in his pocket. He was looking down at a small, black velvet box as if he was contemplating a life-altering decision. The guy wore a blue plaid button-down shirt tucked into black dress pants, and his tousled dark brown hair was combed back.

My heart pounded. Standing by the private dining room entrance, holding an engagement ring, was Toby. I remembered reading in Yvonne's file that he was planning to propose to Yvonne at a family lunch. It felt as though Toby had just punched me in the chest.

 _He's proposing to her_. The realization stabbed me deep.

Faintly, I could hear Gil talking, but he sounded so far away, like there was cotton stuffed in my ears. I could barely register my surroundings. Everything was moving in slow motion, and my whole body went numb.

 _He's going to marry Yvonne,_ I thought in despair. The words echoed over and over in my head, endlessly tormenting me. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs.

"…Possibly a lively impromptu debate between you and Yvonne," Gil was saying.

My ears prickled at the word _debate_ and I whipped my head towards him. "I'm sorry. A debate?"

"Only if it comes naturally," he assured me. "Now you might get a question on Lafayette, it's okay. Answer naturally."

Just then, Toby looked up, noticing I'd been staring at him, and met my eyes.

I gazed back, sinking back into my protective shell of dead numbness. How could he do this to me? My heart was aching so fiercely in my hollow chest that I was afraid it would swell up and break. The pain was unbearable; it was like my heart had stopped beating.

When Toby's eyes caught mine, they were filled with…what? Guilt? Regret? Realization washed over his face as he glanced between me and the ring, before morphing into a mask of remorse.

"Just do not pretend to know something that you don't know," Gil went on. "That's how you end up a viral video. Okay?"

I couldn't answer. Toby guiltily put the ring back into his pocket, his eyes still on mine. In that moment, a slender girl with pretty, long brown hair, caramel-colored skin, and brown eyes came out of the private dining room toward Toby, sliding her hands around his waist and smiling up at him. Toby smiled back down at her broadly and put his arms around her as they walked toward the dining room together.

My heart sank. This had to be Yvonne Phillips, the gorgeous, perfect daughter of my mother's competitor _and_ Toby's new girlfriend.

 _Of course he has a girlfriend,_ I thought. _Just look at him._

This was worse than I thought it would be. It was one thing to hear about Toby dating someone else, but watching him embracing her, looking happier than I'd ever seen him, drove me wild with jealousy. Why did it have to be _her?_ Toby was looking at Yvonne with such adoration in his eyes that I felt as if I was intruding on some intimate moment that wasn't meant for my eyes to see. But as he and Yvonne walked away, Toby looked back at me over his shoulder, his face somber.

"Spencer?" Gil prodded.

"Yeah," I answered distractedly. "It's great."

"Great. Excuse me." Gil turned to one of the hotel staff employees as they carried out a black leather chair into the lounge. "Uh, no, no, no. Chair goes over there."

I folded my arms across my empty chest, staring off at the dining room doorway where Toby had just been moments before.

My cell phone beeped.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my iPhone. A new text message appeared on the screen with a diamond ring emoji symbol.

I guess she is better than you. He will never put a ring on your finger.

Who could have seen? How did this person know about Toby? I looked around fearfully, my skin prickling with a mixture of confusion and fear. Guests were standing near the bar and sitting at the tables, sipping wine. Waiters bustled in the hotel.

The strange thing was, I knew I could talk to Toby about what the message said, but I was feeling too devastated about him and Yvonne. I'd spent the last three years, hoping, waiting for Toby to come back to me. And then we'd be together again, more in love than ever. But now I knew now that had just been a silly dream. Toby was gone. Forever. I'd lost him. On top of that, someone knew that I was still in love with Toby–and that he was in love with someone else.

The text confirmed one thing: Toby didn't love me anymore and he never would.

Toby

"To my lovely daughter, Yvonne," Mr. Richard Phillips said, raising his glass of champagne to clink against Yvonne's, who was seated next to me at the four-person restaurant table in the center of the dining floor. "You'll always be my little girl. And to Toby, for making my daughter happier than I could have ever hoped for. May you one day join our family." He flashed a smile at me and winked, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

Mr. Phillips had been dropping a lot of hints to me about proposing to Yvonne ever since we sat down and I knew it couldn't be a coincidence. My father, Daniel Cavanaugh, needed the Phillips' family name and their strong business connections to help boost his car dealership. And marrying the senator's daughter was the perfect way to do that. The small black box that held the engagement ring suddenly felt heavy in my pocket.

It was almost noon, and Yvonne and I were sitting in the private dining room of The Radley Hotel with her parents, Christine and Richard. It was supposed to be a big family lunch because I was meeting Yvonne's parents for the first time. I hadn't met them yet–my father had been pushing me to do so for months, but I'd been avoiding it until now.

The Phillips had chosen the hotel because it was elegant and fancy, had the most incredible food, and was the perfect place to propose to their daughter. Even though marrying Yvonne was the last thing I wanted to do. We'd only been dating for six months, but I couldn't see a future with her. Yvonne was everything I could ever want in a partner and I adored her immensely, she just wasn't for me. But with Spencer, I knew right away that I wanted to share my life with her. And despite my anger for dating my best friend, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I thought of Spencer now in The Radley lobby earlier, the hurt look on her face when she'd seen the engagement ring, and the wave of guilty feelings flooded back. I hadn't meant to hurt her, but she was with Caleb now.

Yvonne rolled her eyes. "Daddy." She turned to me and mouthed, _Sorry_.

Yvonne's navy-blue dress, black stilettos, and two-carat diamond studs that her parents had bought her for her sixteenth birthday showed off her big brown eyes and gorgeous luscious locks of long, dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders. Her smooth skin was flawless, her teeth were radiantly white, and her entire body was long and lean. It was hard not to notice Yvonne. She was one of those girls who instantly attracted the opposite sex within a five-mile radius without even trying.

"Nonsense," Mr. Phillips said to Yvonne. "Toby is part of the family now."

"He is," Mrs. Phillips cooed. She smiled warmly at me.

Yvonne clinked glasses with her father and took a dainty sip of her champagne. Then she reached under the table and squeezed my knee. Anxiety coiled in my stomach, feeling unsure about Yvonne, troubled by the news that Spencer was with Caleb. Her parents' expectations of my proposal was making me nervous.

Mr. Phillips put his glass down and gazed at me and Yvonne. "It's great that you two could come out today. Toby, we've been looking forward to meeting you." He beamed at me.

"Indeed," Mrs. Phillips agreed. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet the man that has stolen our Yvonne's heart."

Yvonne reached under the table and squeezed my knee. I felt my throat constrict. I pictured Spencer and Caleb together and the familiar pain of jealousy returned, twinged with fury. My mind swirled as I found myself imagining several different scenarios of them, full of repulsive images that I fought to repress. But I couldn't stop my wild thoughts from running wild. Of Caleb holding Spencer, kissing her, the two of them rolling around in the sheets… The jealousy I felt burned through me. Then I thought about Yvonne and the commitment I'd made to her, and I felt guilty.

Yvonne moved her hand up to my thigh, and it took everything in me not to cringe. It was suffocating having to sit here with Yvonne and her prim and proper parents while knowing I was still harboring feelings for someone else. Someone who didn't want me.

Christine and Richard Phillips were well-dressed and extremely wealthy, emanating sophisticated and articulate mannerism. It would make anyone in the room feel intimidated by them. Not only were the Phillips conservative and respectable, but they had high social standings with practically every profitable business in town. Someone with their family name couldn't associate themselves with just anyone.

Mr. Phillips cleared his throat. "So Toby, Yvonne tells me that you're building a house. That's quite impressive."

I flushed. "Oh, it's nothing."

"He's being modest." Yvonne smiled. "He's building our dream house."

"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Phillips cried. "Does this mean that you and Yvonne will be moving in together?"

"I…" I stuttered.

"Yes," Yvonne finished for me. "As soon as it's finished, we're going to live there. I'm going to cook for him." She interlaced her fingers with mine on the table. "And who knows? Maybe someday we'll get married and start a family."

I grimaced and took a big gulp of my champagne. I wanted to tell Yvonne that the house wasn't for her, but I didn't want to upset her. I'd be crushing her dreams of us living together and getting married and living happily ever after.

"Yvonne has very high standards," Mrs. Phillips said, taking a sip of her champagne. "She takes after me."

Yvonne grinned. "Now, you say that like it's a bad thing."

"Building a house by yourself is a lot of work," Mr. Phillips said to me. "But being married is even harder. It takes commitment, patience, and a lot of effort. Let me give you a little advice: always agree with your wife even when you know she's wrong."

Mrs. Phillips looked sternly at her husband. "Are you saying I'm hard to live with?"

He smiled pleasantly at her. "No, dear."

Yvonne picked up her menu. "Can we order?"

"I'm having the shrimp scampi," I announced. I didn't want to eat much. I just wanted to get this lunch over with.

Mrs. Phillips turned to Yvonne. "Darling, what are you going to have?"

"Mmm," she sighed. "Everything looks amazing. Although the salmon and steamed vegetables looks divine."

Mr. Phillips flagged down the waiter and everyone ordered their meals. When the waiter left, he rested his eyes on mine. "What is it that you do, Toby?"

"Uh, I'm a police officer," I answered nervously.

Mr. Phillips looked impressed. "That's a respectful job. I guess I don't have to tell you how dangerous police work can be at times."

"The road to greatness is never easy," Mrs. Phillips added. "You must have studied very hard in school to get your Criminal Justice degree."

"Of course he has." Yvonne beamed. "He was even considered for the detective position a while back."

I threw her a look. Getting turned down for the detective job was not the highlight of my career and I didn't want it to be broadcasted to everyone. The only other people who knew about it were Spencer and Emily.

"Actually, I got my Bachelor's a couple years ago doing online courses," I explained. "I dropped out of high school so I could someday start my own construction company."

Mrs. Phillips pursed her lips. "What made you change careers?"

I swallowed. _To protect Spencer_. But there was no way I could tell them that.

"Um, nothing really. Things change I guess."

"Yvonne was the top of her class when she was in high school," Mrs. Phillips bragged, looking very proud.

" _Mom,"_ Yvonne whined. She gave me an apologetic look.

"Unlike that Hastings girl," Mrs. Phillips said disdainfully. "I can't believe her mother let her leave the house after what she did to that poor girl."

Mr. Phillips _tsked_ sympathetically. "I hear she's mentally unstable. She was institutionalized here at Radley before it became a hotel."

I bristled. "Spencer was actually nominated for valedictorian. She was going to give the honorary speech at her high school graduation."

Yvonne turned to me with a frown, noticing the protective edge in my voice.

I suddenly recalled the night of senior prom. After everyone discovered that Ali went to the high school to meet with Charles, we all went to the dance to try to stop her. The entire junior and senior class had gone–my stepsister, Jenna, Bridget Wu, Lucas Gottesman, Hanna's friend, Mona Vanderwaal, and Noel Kahn. The teachers and the principal didn't want the girls there for security reasons–they didn't like the idea of cops guarding every door of the school with the threat of a psycho running loose in Rosewood. After Spencer and the girls found Ali, Spencer and I danced together to a slow song, just being in the moment with her. I asked Spencer what she had written her valedictorian speech about and she'd looked into my eyes and said, "I wrote it about you." Then we French-kissed right there in the middle of the dance floor.

Mrs. Phillips looked surprised. "Oh, I didn't realize. She must have been very important to you. It's my understanding that you two were once a couple?"

To my relief, our food came at that moment and Yvonne chewed her salmon slowly, seeming to be pondering something. Before Spencer came back to town, I'd assured Yvonne that there was nothing between Spencer and I anymore so that she wouldn't worry. And she wasn't bothered by the fact that Spencer was my first love. Yvonne was ready to start planning our future.

After the waiters, cleared our plates, Yvonne said no to dessert and coffee, and headed to the ladies' room. I felt for the engagement ring's box in my pocket, hesitating.

Two days after Charles' body had been discovered, my father had come up with the absurd idea to propose marriage to Yvonne, saying it would be good for our family. But something about proposing to her felt wrong somehow. I'd only ever been in love with one woman, and I would never feel about her the way I did about Spencer. When I had refused, my dad drove me down to Weiland's Jewelers, the local jewelry store in town, and told me if I didn't buy an engagement ring for Yvonne that he would disown me. But when Spencer came back to Rosewood, all the old feelings I'd tried to bury came flooding back, even when I had tried to fight them.

Something powerful and meaningful hit me with overpowering strength, and I pulled my hand out of my pocket. I couldn't do it. When Yvonne returned, I stood and took her hand, leading her out of the restaurant. Disappointment flickered in Christine and Richard's faces, but none of that mattered now.

From the moment I saw Spencer standing there in the hotel lobby, I realized I couldn't go through with proposing to Yvonne. Because I could no longer deny the simple truth that I was still in love with Spencer and the certainty that she was the one who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Spencer

About a half hour later, I rushed into the barn with my phone pressed against my ear, listening to Hanna finish telling me about the creepy text message she'd just received from the stalker about Jordan. "I got another text, too," I told her.

"What'd yours say?" Hanna kept her voice low, as though it was some huge secret.

I hurriedly snatched my blazer jacket off the cushioned Barcelona chair in the foyer, hesitating. When I'd read the text in the hotel, it was like the ring emoji symbol was taunting me. A part of me considered telling Hanna about it, but I felt too ashamed. It was already complicated enough that Toby was dating the daughter of my mom's rival for the senate race. I was afraid she'd pity me for pining over someone who was clearly over me. I just couldn't tell her.

"Why are you whispering?" I asked.

"Because Jordan's here," Hanna answered.

I wedged my cell phone between my chin and shoulder as I dug my laptop out of my bag, feeling my anxiety growing stronger. "Well, did you tell him about it? Because I really wanna tell Caleb."

"Because he's Caleb or…because you guys are–" She scoffed, sounding annoyed.

Guilt stabbed at me, and tears glistened in my eyes. "You know what, Hanna? Look, if you're really not okay with this–"

"Wow, that was fast," Hanna snapped, cutting me off.

"It's never going to happen again, okay?" I promised. "I swear it."

"Thank you," Hanna said gratefully. "I appreciate it."

An awkward silence passed between us.

"I told Jordan I erased the tape, but I'm afraid to tell him about the text," Hanna said after a moment. "I mean, this person threatened to blow us up. My-my brain is telling me to be honest, but my PTSD is telling me to shut the hell up." She sounded worried and stressed.

Slowly, I sat down on the couch, trying to process what she was telling me. "Let me get Caleb on this. Maybe he can shut this thing down and then you can tell Jordan everything."

"Okay. Do it, Spencer."

The call ended, and I walked out of the barn towards the main house. As I neared the door, my text message about Toby spun around in my head. It hurt that he was proposing to Yvonne, especially when that was supposed to be us. But I couldn't control the nagging fear in the back of my mind that picked at me, wondering if what the stalker had written was true–that Yvonne really was better than me. The thought gnawed deeper at the hole in my chest. And what wasn't there to like? Yvonne was a more perfect version of me. She was gorgeous smart, rich, successful, and achieved practically everything she worked for. Toby had traded up.

 _He doesn't love you,_ I told myself again. _Get over it_.

I peered through the glass of the French double doors. Inside, Caleb sat on the couch, staring intently at his laptop screen. My insides quivered. I'd been avoiding him since our uncomfortable conversation this morning. And the bloody sheets I'd found only confirmed my shaky and unnerved emotions. The frightening visions of him that continued to plague me all day refused to fade away–of myself screaming at Caleb to stop, moving his body roughly on top of mine, kissing me forcefully, and then the searing pain that ripped through me as soon as he shoved himself inside. It was as if the blocked memory was trying to tell me something.

I pulled my cell phone out and read the text over and over, contemplating how much I should tell Caleb. What if he knew I still had feelings for Toby? Caleb was living in the barn, therefore he knew where I was at all times. And with his expert hacking skills, he could easily hack into my computer and phone. If I showed Caleb the text about the ring, I'd have to tell him my true feelings for Toby. But if I said nothing, he could still find it in my phone and try to hurt me.

My hands shook. I couldn't let Caleb know how much that ring text had hurt me. My fingers flew over the touch screen as I quickly deleted the message from my phone, like it had never happened. Only the devil emoji threat remained.

Then I pulled open the door and walked into the living room.

Caleb looked up when he heard me come in. "Hey."

"Hmm…there's something that you need to see." I sat next to him on the couch, careful not to touch him, and handed him my iPhone.

Caleb took the phone from my hand and studied the screen with a frown, reading the stalker's first text they'd sent me. When he peeled his eyes off the phone to look at me suspiciously, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up in fear.

"Can you trace the phone of whoever sent this?" I asked.

Caleb nodded, and I let out a silent breath of relief. "Sure. I'll need to hook it up to my computer to get all the data."

I nervously dug my fingernails into my palm. "How long do you think it'll take?"

He shrugged. "An hour tops. Maybe more."

"Okay."

For a while, neither of us said anything. I looked out the window at the trees swaying lightly in the September breeze while Caleb plugged his computer adapter into my phone and connected it to his computer, waiting for the proxy server to respond.

Caleb raised his eyes to mine. "So I talked to Toby."

My heart pounded. "You did?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I told him about us."

Rage and disbelief flooded through me. "You told him _what?_ "

Caleb frowned, feigning innocence. "I thought after what happened between us last night–"

I shot up from the couch. "There is no us, I told you that."

Caleb set down his computer and stood up. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" I demanded.

"You spill your guts to me and then kiss me, but then you take off after we have sex," Caleb explained. "You get all weird when I try to talk to you and tell me we should just stay friends, you walk around the barn in short dresses and nightgowns that could drive guys crazy. And now, you're acting like it's a big surprise that I told Toby about what's going on with us. You're nothing but a tease."

The blood rushed up to my cheeks. "I didn't want you to tell him!" I shouted. "And it didn't mean anything!"

"Oh, I think it did," he said in a low voice. "And it still can."

Caleb stepped closer to me and his hot, pungent breath brushed against my face. I could feel the violent anger emanating from him. Suddenly, I wondered if having those beers with him last night had been his plan all along. My skin iced over.

I cringed away from him. "No!" I cried. "I didn't _want_ you to kiss me! You're my best friend's _ex-boyfriend_. I would never do that to her."

There was something about Caleb that seemed off. He was too confident, too close, wanting too much.

His eyes blazed. "I'm not an idiot. You think I don't see what's going on here? I know you're still in love with Toby."

"Please stop," I said in a shaky voice.

Caleb slapped his hand hard across my face, leaving a hot, stinging sensation on my cheek. I touched the spot where he'd slapped me in stunned silence. The room twirled dizzily, but I tried to stay calm even though I was shaking inside.

"Just…stay away from me," I said in the strongest voice I could manage.

Caleb grabbed my arm swiftly, squeezing hard. "Where are you going to go? Your mom's house?"

My throat tightened. I could move back into my mom's house, but Caleb could break in. There was only one place I could think of that would keep me safe, and he probably didn't want me. I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured Toby and Yvonne at a church somewhere reciting their wedding vows. I wanted to vomit.

My legs felt like lead, and I couldn't move. "I'll tell Toby," I threatened.

Caleb looked unphased. "You tell Toby, and I'll tell him what a dirty slut you are. He won't want anything to do with you."

I bit my lip, trying not to cry.

"Do you really think Toby will choose you over me?" he went on, and scoffed. "He's dating the senator's daughter. He doesn't care about you."

Sweat gathered at the back of my neck, but I didn't dare let it show how scared I was. Caleb looked different. Hardened, dangerous. His mouth was curled up cynically to one side, and his brown hair, which he usually kept combed and tidy now, hung in flat strands against his head. He sounded calm, but his eyes weren't. They had darkened and turned hostile, cutting right through me menacingly.

Everything came into sharp focus then; his smooth words, his dark, glinting eyes, his long list of women he'd seduced and scorned, his experience with lies, manipulation, and thievery. I'd fallen for the Devil's tricks.

Caleb slid his hand down to my wrist and tightened his grip. "Whatever is going on between you and Toby, it's going to stop now."

I flinched. "Caleb, you're hurting me."

He jerked me towards him, leaning his face closer to mine. "Stay away from Toby, or I'll kill him."

Caleb finally released me, wandering back over to his computer.

It was painful imagining Toby and Yvonne getting giddy for their wedding, tasting cakes and picking out flowers for the ceremony. But I had to push aside my ill feelings to protect Toby from Caleb. Or he'd kill him…

Later that evening, minutes after I'd run out of the barn, I walked through Main Street, passing Leon's Cupcakes. While Caleb worked on cracking the source of the stalker, I wandered aimlessly through the center of town with no idea of what to do next. I tried not to think of Caleb's threat looming over my head.

There were only so many places where I could go; I'd been too paralyzed with shock and fear that I hadn't had time to think of a safe enough place to hide from Caleb. Jess clearly wasn't an option–she was still angry with me about the whole Caleb situation. And Toby wouldn't want to hoard his ex-girlfriend in his small trailer.

I was going over the possible options of my new living situation in my head when my phone, which was nestled in the pocket of my dress pants, began to ring. I jumped, thinking it was Caleb. Emily's name flashed on the caller ID.

"Hey, Em," I answered, feeling relieved.

"Ezra didn't kill Charles," Emily blurted.

I frowned. "What?"

"Aria went into Ezra's apartment just now and she found the nine iron golf club in his bag," she said.

I scrunched up my forehead. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And there's something else you should know." She paused. "We think Aria's dad might have had something to do with Charles' murder."

"Why do you think that?" I asked.

"Because he's missing his nine iron golf club."

" _What?_ " I screeched.

"He left a voicemail on Ezra's machine saying that he wanted to talk to Ezra about what he saw that night," Emily went on. "Aria's going up to his hotel room right now to talk to him about it, but we still don't know who killed Charles. Whoever is sending us those texts, they're not going to stop until we find out who Charles' killer is."

"Caleb's making progress," I assured her. "He says that the signal's bouncing through several proxy servers, but he's been able to spoof the IP address and backtrace it to an encrypted connection."

"What does that mean?" Emily asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "But he does think that he's zeroing in on the location of the source."

"Okay, let's say it's coming from The Radley," Emily started slowly. "Can he narrow it down to the room?"

"He doesn't really have to," I pointed out. "I mean, if we're right about Sara, she's the only person who's staying at The Radley who spent two years in Charles' School For Stalkers."

Suddenly, two familiar figures appeared on the sidewalk, laughing and smiling giddily as they came my way. My heart hammered, banging around inside my chest. Toby had a huge grin on his face as he walked down the street, his left hand firmly entwined with Yvonne's. She looked beautiful in comparison to me; Yvonne had a voluptuous body with full breasts, glowing caramel skin, a slender waist, and slim curves in all the right places. She was wearing a navy-blue and pink Peter Pan-style dress that fell above her knees, her gorgeous long brown hair spilled down her shoulders, her perfectly manicured nails were painted pink, and she wore toasted almond-colored lip gloss on her full pouty lips. Toby cradled Yvonne's hand in his and stared adoringly into her eyes as if she were the only girl in the world. It hurt to see Toby so happy with someone else, and he never held hands with me in public when we were dating.

"Umm, can you just call me back after you talk to Aria's dad?" I asked Emily quickly.

"Yeah," she said.

I hung up abruptly and slid my phone back into my pocket. As Toby and Yvonne walked over, I turned away, trying to find the right words of what to say to them. Even though my heart was breaking.

"Hi, congratulations on the engagement," I whispered to myself. "Oh my gosh, it's so good to see you."

After a moment, I walked up to Yvonne and forced a smile. But before I could get one word in, Yvonne rushed over to me. "Spencer, hi," she gushed. "I'm Yvonne."

"Hi." I tried my hardest to keep a composed look on my face.

"Hi," she repeated.

I reached out to shake her hand, but to my surprise, Yvonne threw her arms around me into a big hug, squeezing me tight.

When Yvonne pulled away, she broke into a huge smile. "Oh, sorry, we're a family of huggers, and Toby's told me so much about you." She looked at Toby standing beside her and beamed up at him.

"Yeah, you're an impressive woman yourself," I said, trying to ignore the old jealous tugging in my stomach. "Top of your class, double major at Smith. Wow."

"So they gave you a packet on me, too?" Yvonne asked.

"Yeah." I flushed, embarrassed. "Sorry, I had to read that."

"Well, me too," she said in the sweetest voice. "D.C. must be missing its brightest young lobbyist."

I looked over and noticed that Toby was gazing at me lovingly, his smile warm. I stared back, surprised.

I peeked at Yvonne. She looked at me expectantly as she waited for me to answer, seeming oblivious.

Toby continued to hold my gaze. His face had softened and his pretty blue eyes sparkled at me. I couldn't look away. I knew that expression well–it was the same way he used to look at me whenever we were snuggling together on the couch, or when Toby would watch me study.

 _Toby is with Yvonne now,_ I told myself. Then why was he looking at me like that? Why did he have to look so happy to see me? Like me being here was the best thing in the world? It was torture. Toby had a girlfriend–someone who he wanted to marry. And he was happy with her. She could give him things that I couldn't.

I reluctantly turned back to Yvonne, feeling Toby's eyes on my face. "You know as well as I do that a campaign is won or lost in the last three weeks, so I'm not gonna get another vacation day for the next three years of my life, but I thought it was important for me to be here for my mom."

Yvonne nodded. "Yeah, I've heard you're not a fan of Rosewood."

The mention of Toby talking about me to Yvonne made me uneasy. Had I really been that awful of a girlfriend? I looked down at Yvonne's hand; to my relief, she wasn't wearing a ring.

"I, uh, told Yvonne that I was Green Acres and you were Park Avenue," Toby said to me. Toby and Yvonne looked at each other, and they both chuckled.

I looked at him quizzically. "Green Acres?"

"He's just kidding," Yvonne told me. "We watch a lot of retro TV."

I fake-smiled, but inside a dead numbness slowly seeped into my body, and I wanted to cut my heart out. Toby looked happier than I'd ever seen him. He never looked that way when he'd been with me. I felt a pang of jealousy seeing that he shared private jokes with Yvonne now and watched old movies with her. It used to be our thing.

Yvonne's expression faltered when she looked at something a block away and sighed. "Oh God, I'm getting a ticket. Sorry." She ran off to a shiny red Porsche parked in a handicapped spot, where a cop in a uniform was writing a parking ticket in a small notepad.

"Oh yeah, fine," I muttered.

As Yvonne talked to the police officer, Toby looked at me guiltily. "So you saw the ring earlier?"

My cheeks burned. "Yeah, I mean, I-I wasn't trying to be a crazy ex-girlfriend stalker," I stammered nervously. "I just, I was there."

"It's a small town," Toby said. "We're gonna run into each other."

"So you didn't propose?" I asked.

I held my breath as I waited for his answer. Toby opened his mouth slightly, but no sound came out, seeming to be at a loss for words. My spirits lifted. Maybe he did still love me.

But before Toby could say anything, Yvonne called him over. "Officer Toby, can you help me out with this?"

Then, after looking helplessly at me, Toby walked away to help his girlfriend.

"Nice meeting you, Spencer," Yvonne called to me.

"Yeah," I called back, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Toby, however didn't look at me again, as if I didn't exist.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets miserably and walked through the door of the Hastings Campaign Headquarters building, trying to keep my emotions in check. I'd watched Toby walk away from me for the second time that day.

I never should have come back home. I didn't belong here, I never did. There was nothing here for me anymore. Making decisions was easy when I was confident that I had made the right choice. Once my mind was made up, I followed through. And I was sure about this decision. When the election was over, I'd leave Rosewood for good. There were too many memories here to bear.

Jess

That same time Friday evening, I stood at the bed that Jason and I shared in the barn bedroom, folding the last of my clothes into my suitcase. My satchel bag and Jason's black duffel bag sat next to boxes of our stuff, packed and waiting to be moved into the DiLaurentis house.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on with you and Spencer?" Jason asked me as I stuffed some of our pillows into a moving box.

"Nope."

After my confrontation with Spencer this morning, I'd called Jason, telling him I wanted to move out of the barn immediately. At first he didn't question my strong desire to leave. But when he noticed I'd been avoiding Spencer's calls, he grew concerned, gently trying to coax me to tell him what was wrong. But I'd quickly changed the subject, saying it was nothing. I didn't want to talk about what happened, especially with Hanna. It was too horrible to think about. I was angry at Spencer for sleeping with Caleb, for destroying the foundation of our friendships, and most importantly for putting me in the position of having to tell Hanna the repulsive truth. I was mad that I knew period. And Spencer wasn't the only one I was avoiding. I hadn't called Hanna back even when she'd sent me urgent texts about the mystery stalker, too afraid to face her. A part of me wished I'd never seen Spencer and Caleb together. But a bigger, stronger part felt that something was really…off.

"Well, it must be pretty serious if you're moving out of the barn," Jason pressed.

"I just think it would be better if we stayed with Ali instead," I lied. I couldn't tell him the real reason why I was mad at Spencer. What if he got all protective and went after Caleb? Jason would blame him for their night of passion, thinking Caleb had taken advantage of Spencer. Which was clearly not the case.

Jason crossed his arms over his muscular chest and raised an eyebrow disbelievingly at me. "Every time I mention her name, you tense up, your mood changes."

I sighed. "We got into a fight."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

I felt Jason's arms around my waist, and I leaned into him. I felt my breath quicken as he pressed himself closer to me.

His lips brushed along my ear. "Now, what's really bothering you?"

My lips pulled up into a smile. "Nice try."

Then Jason bent his head down and pressed his lips to my neck. The touch of his lips on my bare skin sent sparks down my back and I couldn't think straight.

"What about now?" he murmured against my neck.

"No." I could barely get the words out.

Jason kissed slowly along my neck down to my shoulder. His warm breath on my skin made me shiver with pleasure.

"And now?" Jason whispered.

I couldn't breathe.

Jason turned me around in his arms to brush his lips against my trembling lower lip.

"Okay," I sighed, giving in. I felt a part of me trying to resist him, but I was too weakened to fight it.

I could feel him smiling with victory as he moved his lips against mine. But as I leaned in to kiss him back, I noticed a small, flat rectangular-shaped ivory box sitting on the glass-topped coffee table.

"Is that from you?" I asked.

Jason followed my gaze to the little package, frowning. "No."

I grabbed the present off the table, my head spinning. The box was so light that it made me wonder if there was anything inside. There was no tag or card, and a black, thin satin bow was tied around the center. I tore off the ribbon and wrapping paper, and then lifted the lid off the box, unfolding the contents from the layer of white tissue paper.

Inside was an eerily familiar scrap of black fabric. It looked soft and expensive, with clean and cut lines.

The ink-black was so dark that it could blend in with the cover of night like a camouflage. With dizzying nausea, I realized why the fabric looked so familiar. It was the same cashmere as the J. Crew sweater that Charles was wearing the night he died. He always liked black.

"Oh my God." My voice was barely audible.

With a shaking hand, I picked up the scrap of fabric. A heavy cream card poked out from underneath. The words _Keep quiet about Charles…or you're next_ were written across the front in black, scrolling script.

My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid it would explode. "Keep quiet about Charles or you're next?"

Jason leaned over my shoulder to get a better look. "Is that…?"

I stared at Jason in alarm. "It's Charles' sweater."

I could still hear Charles' voice in my ear, so close that I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck. _He's coming for you next_. The words banged around in my head in ripples, growing louder and louder. Was Charles trying to warn me? But before I could get answers from him, someone killed him.

I took the note and reread it, trying to make sense of it. I turned it over, hoping there was a name or address of where the present came from, but the card was blank.

"We have to tell somebody."

I rushed over to the window, feeling paranoid. Was Charles' killer watching me? Should I tell the police? What if it was too dangerous? I peered out through the protective glass of the window, but nothing was there. The pine trees surrounding the Hastings' vast backyard were very still as if they sensed something was wrong, too. The only sound outside was the burbling of the hot tub's jets.

"Jess, wait," Jason said gently. "Just calm down. We don't even know what this is."

I whipped around to face him. "Yes we do!" I shrieked, holding up the note. "This is evidence! The person who wrote this knows I was with Charles the night he died. I shouldn't even be touching it."

I hurriedly placed the note back into the box and set it down on the coffee table.

A mixture of calm and confusion swelled inside of me. Not wanting to keep any more secrets, I'd confessed everything to Jason about seeing Charles the night he was murdered and the creepy messages my friends and I had been receiving lately. I worried that Jason would be angry for keeping something so important from him, but he'd simply said he could never be mad at me and kissed me.

Jason's expression was grave. "Jessie, this has A written all over it."

I shook my head. None of this made sense. "No, the game ended when Charles was murdered. Who could possibly be messing with us now?"

"Maybe it's a copycat," Jason started carefully. "Someone to take over when Charles was gone."

"No," I insisted stubbornly. "The killer wants me to stay in Rosewood. That's why they're doing this."

"Maybe they had help. The person who wrote that note is probably trying to frame you for Charles' murder. They know your history with abusing drugs. They know your life was rough. It wouldn't be very hard to prove. Whoever did this could tip off the cops that you were there the night Charles was killed. You'd be the first person they would suspect of killing him."

All the feeling in my body slowly seeped away. _Would they?_

"My brother had a lot of enemies," Jason continued, gazing out the window at the full moon. "And after everything he's done, a lot of people would want him dead. One of them probably finally got their revenge against him. Just like what happened to my mom."

I frowned. "Okay, but we're dealing with a new stalker here. I mean, we have a scrap of his sweater. Jessica was murdered because of all the secrets she kept. Someone killed Charles because he…well, because he was A."

Jason's face turned hard. "Well, I find it awfully convenient that you can't remember what happened that night."

My mouth fell open. "Are you saying you think I killed him?"

"No!" Jason cried defensively. "I know you wouldn't. I'm saying someone is trying to make you think that you did. Think about it. You lose your memory of the one night that you saw Charles, which happens to be the same night he gets killed. Then two days later, a new stalker appears out of nowhere. That can't be a coincidence."

I stared at him, feeling the walls close in around me. "So you think this new A is Charles' killer? Jason, I have a really bad feeling about this."

"Which is why I think we should hold off on telling the others about this," Jason reasoned. "At least for now. Let's just see what their next move is first."

Disbelief coursed through me. "So I'm just supposed to face my friends and pretend that everything's okay?"

Jason looked at me pleadingly. "Look, I know it's hard, but we need to lay low. Because the only way to win A's game is not to play."

I sighed. "Fine."

Jason took my hands in his and stared directly into my eyes. "Do you love me?"

"You know I do," I answered sincerely.

He gazed at me, his eyes suddenly gentle. "Then nothing else matters. Because no matter what happens, we will get through it, you and me. Together."

My heart throbbed as I gazed back into Jason's endless blue eyes. "Jason, I love you."

Then Jason took my face in his hands with a fierce need and covered his mouth with mine deeply, moving his lips unyielding against mine. I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him harder.

"I love you," I whispered against his lips.

I kissed his neck, and Jason pulled me into his arms. He squeezed hard and buried his face into my neck. I hugged him back, clinging to him.

As Jason held me, the only thought going through my mind was how I didn't want him to ever let me go.

Spencer

The next morning, when I woke from one hour of sleep, my body ached and I felt light-headed. After I came home last night, I packed a bag of my clothes and settled into my old bedroom of my mom's house, making sure to lock all the windows and doors before going to bed. I couldn't stay in the barn anymore, not with Caleb living there.

As I sat up in bed slowly, the muscles in my butt throbbed. The events of yesterday came flooding back to me, and I covered my face with my hands in shame. Yesterday, I'd seen a different side of Caleb. He had _raped_ me. He'd taken advantage of me. And some old instinct buried deep inside me warned me that Caleb was dangerous, telling me to stay as far away from him as I could.

But that wasn't even the worst part: I'd had sex with another man, whether it had been my decision or not. Toby understood what it meant for me to share my body with someone that way, and that was why I couldn't be with anyone but him. What better way to lose the guy you love than sleep with his best friend? I wasn't a virgin, but sex was something I took very seriously. I didn't want to do it with just anyone; it had to be with the right person. Toby respected how important that was to me and so he never pressured me into having sex with him. He'd waited patiently after I told him I wasn't ready yet. And he'd been so gentle and sweet when I'd finally decided to give up my virginity to him.

I got up weakly, feeling the soreness in my body. I'd slept in the dark T-shirt Toby had given me a few days ago, and it smelled like him. The scent comforted me and was the only thing that helped me sleep. I replayed our conversation from yesterday, and the wave of torture came hurtling back to the surface. I frantically tried to reach for something to hold onto, desperate to escape the numbing pain. A part of me had died inside seeing Toby with Yvonne. And it killed me to know that he thought I wanted Caleb that way. I had to see Toby. I had to tell him the truth before it was too late.

Shutting the door to the adjoining master bathroom, I reached for a jar of Icy Hot in the medicine cabinet and winced as an excruciating pain exploded through my pelvis. I lifted up my shirt and faced the mirror.

My mouth gaped open. It was worse than I'd thought. There were dark purple bruises covering my navel, pulsing blue from the blood. The bruises trailed up from the sides of my stomach to my chest.

With shaking hands, I pulled off Toby's shirt and started slathering the Icy Hot on my skin. The balm's menthol smell instantly wafted through the room. I scooped up some more Icy Hot into my palm and slid my hands down my underwear to rub it into my buttcheeks and inner thighs. I smeared the goop across my breasts next, and a soothing, cool sensation settled over my body. When I was done, I dabbed a ton of foundation over the bruises of my abdomen and chest so that it wouldn't be noticeable. Then I applied a coat of rose-pink lip gloss on my lips and brushed some blush over my cheeks.

I padded into my room and changed into jeans and a short-sleeved, silky cream midriff top. I tied the front of my shirt above my stomach, trying to look sexy and beautiful for Toby.

Today I was going to see Toby and tell him everything. Nothing else mattered anymore. And it didn't matter if he did not want me. I wasn't about to lose him again.

Outside, I opened the front door of my car and climbed in. The engine purred to life when I turned the key into the ignition, and I started down the street.

When I finally turned up the drive to Toby's trailer, he didn't look up like he did last time. He stood at the end of his gold Chevy truck, hauling a blue sleeping bag into the bed. The woodland surrounding us filled me with an odd comfort, and the air was still and quiet.

I walked around the truck. "Hey," I said tentatively.

Toby turned and looked at me, but he didn't smile. Instead, he turned back to loading his camping gear into the truck. I had the sense that he wasn't happy to see me.

"You and Yvonne going camping?" I went on.

"She's got a lot on her plate right now," Toby said harshly. "Like you."

It felt like Toby had just slapped me. "Oh, so you're pulling a Toby."

He glowered at me. "Spence, we're not an us anymore. You don't get to weigh in on my life."

He was the one who left me! Toby didn't want me anymore; he didn't have the right to be angry. But then I remembered what Caleb had told him and shame regret welled up inside of me.

"I just thought we found a way to be friends," I said softly. We both knew the reason why.

"Honestly, it was a lot easier being your friend when you lived in D.C." His eyes were hard.

"Toby, you know that I can't go anywhere right now, okay?" I said, trying to mask my wounded emotions. "The cops are asking us a hundred questions and I am really helping my mom with this campaign."

Toby clenched his jaw. "I get it, Spence."

My lips slowly stretched into a small grin across my face from hearing my old nickname, and I chuckled. "Why is it so easy to fall back into old habits?" I asked somberly.

"They're hard to give up." His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "That's what makes them habits."

Anguish settled in the pit of my stomach as my miserable, painful memories from D.C. rushed back to the surface, finally grasping what Toby meant. I tried to push them down as best as I could, but the memory jolted through my head. And suddenly I could see Toby's face–a mixture of fear and pain. I saw myself sitting on the dorm room bed across from him, hugging my knees up to my chest, waiting for the timer to ring. Three minutes later, it finally did. But what happened next moved by so fast that I barely had time to even blink. I had blown up, obliterating everything in my wake.

I looked away, feeling a sickening wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Toby."

"Don't apologize," he said gently. "Nobody did anything wrong."

 _Except push you away and hurt you,_ I thought. But I didn't say any of those things. "Well, are you at least gonna stay for tomorrow's event?" I asked him. "I'm sure Yvonne's counting on you."

When Toby finally answered, his face softened and he looked directly into my eyes, holding my gaze. His eyes were red and it looked like he was about to cry, but he held it in. I could see the muscles of his chest straining against the fabric of his blue sweater, and all I wanted to do was rip it off.

Toby nodded shakily. "I'll be there."

I stared back at him, feeling as though my heart was going to burst through my chest. Because I could've sworn when he'd said it, he was saying he would be there for _me_.

Jess

When the doorbell rang, I walked down the stairs and headed into the hall, thinking it was Ali back from her trip. But when I reached the foyer, I froze. Standing behind the frosted glass of the DiLaurentis' front door was Caleb, wearing dark jeans and a black denim jacket. The typical Rosewood Bad Boy.

I yanked open the door. "What do you want?"

"Hey," he said. "I tracked down the signal from the phone. I thought we could go see the location together."

I crossed my arms over my chest, eyeing him suspiciously. "You mean Spencer wouldn't go with you, so you're asking me."

Caleb's lips formed a tight line. "Do you want to go or not?"

I glanced down the hallway at the ticking grandfather clock. Although Caleb was the last person who I wanted to be alone with in a car, _ever_ , he was also the only one who knew the location of where the elusive text messages were coming from. This was our only chance once and for all to find out who the stalker was.

"Don't get in my way." I grabbed my jacket off the coat rack and pushed past him out the door.

Before I could take two steps, Caleb touched my arm. "The car's this way."

I noticed a silver Jeep Cadillac sitting in the driveway, and I grimaced. "There's no way I'm getting into _that_ with you."

Caleb smirked, his eyes shining. "What? You don't trust me?"

With the light, teasing way he said it, I had the feeling that he was trying to flirt with me, but I didn't know why. It didn't make sense; he was seeing Spencer now. Caleb was exactly the kind of guy I used to date–dark, brooding, unafraid to break the law, a bad boy. But unlike Spencer, I would never date my friend's ex-boyfriend.

"No," I retorted. "Do you really think I'm going to let you drive me around town in the middle of the night? Not a chance in Hell. You could be leading me into a trap."

"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" Caleb asked in irritation.

I scoffed. "Wow. Is that your MO for getting girls to fall for you? Showing off your fancy car?"

"It's not my fault that girls are attracted to me."

I rolled my eyes. "No, only the idiotic ones."

Anger flashed in his eyes. "Are you saying Hanna's stupid?"

"Are you calling Spencer stupid?" I fired back.

"What do you care?" he demanded. "You've been treating Spencer like something you scrape off your shoe ever since you found out about us."

"That's because what you and Spencer are doing is wrong and you know it," I spat. "And I don't have to explain myself to you."

Caleb smiled arrogantly. "Maybe not. But then again, I'm not the one who brought a felon to Rosewood."

That struck a nerve bringing up Jonny, and anger surged through my body.

I glared at him. "Just give me the keys."

With a sigh, Caleb reached into his jacket pocket and held out the car keys to me. I snatched them from his hand and stalked over to the car.

I unlocked the car automatically with the keys and slid into the driver's seat.

Caleb got in the passenger side. "Take the one-seventy-eight," he ordered.

I put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway, heading towards the main part of town. We passed the strip malls, the Apple Rose Grille, various apartment buildings, and clothing boutiques. The clear night sky had darkened a few shades, offering a full moon as our only light.

Then I pulled onto Highway 178 and drove west. The houses flashing by grew bigger, before being replaced by the thick trees encroaching on both sides of the road. Soon we were out of the town's limits.

"Make a right up at this next intersection," Caleb instructed. He stared down at the moving red dot on his GPS device, tracking the signal to the phone.

I passed the Rosewood Community Hospital and slowed for a red light at the intersection. When the traffic light turned green, I took a right and turned onto an unpaved country road, driving north.

"Why was it so easy to track down that signal?" Caleb wondered. "And also why build a firewall if it's so easy to break down?"

"Maybe they weren't expecting us to find it," I said. "I was kind of hoping these texts were coming from The Radley. At least then we'd know who we're dealing with."

"Like Sara Harvey?" Caleb guessed.

"Maybe."

"I'm sure that would make Spencer feel relieved," he murmured.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. "So you think you know Spencer now after sleeping in the barn for one week?"

Caleb gave me an elusive, half-smile. "I know a lot of things about Spencer. Things she doesn't even know."

An uneasy feeling began to gnaw at my insides, and an image floated in my head of Caleb sneaking into Spencer's room as she slept. I wondered how many times he'd been watching Spencer, tracking her every movement wherever she went. Was he stalking her?

I'd read stories about guys manipulating girls over the Internet and tricking them into giving their most intimate details so that they could use them for sex, but this was different. Caleb was right here, up close and personal. And it was different because Caleb scared me.

I tightened my hands around the steering wheel nervously. Caleb dug his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in Spencer's number into the phone's keypad.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Spencer needs to see this," he answered.

The phone rang three times before going straight to voicemail. Caleb dialed Spencer's number into his phone again and pressed it to his ear anxiously. After a few rings, there was still no answer.

"Where is she?!" Caleb yelled.

"Would you relax?" I snatched the phone out of his hand and tossed it into the backseat. "She's probably with her mom. What's with your obsession with Spencer anyway?"

"I just need to know where she is." Caleb's eyes darkened as he stared at the road in front of us.

I stared at him, feeling chills racing down my spine. Something suddenly felt really, really wrong.

Within a few miles, the trees began to thin and we pulled onto a dirt road. I came to a stop in front of a large, grey storage unit building and parked beneath the protective cover of some cedars.

Caleb stepped out of the car, and I followed him to the storage unit. The front of the building had several miniature garage doors to each unit, all shut tight with padlocks.

As Caleb and I reached the unit shown on the GPS, I noticed there wasn't a lock attached to the door's handle.

I looked at Caleb. "No lock."

I turned the handle as Caleb tugged the door up. The space was dark and empty except for a small bin in the center. The cold air from outside blew in, raising goosebumps on my arms.

Slowly, we walked toward the bin. My heart thumped as I nervously pulled off the bin's lid. Suddenly, a phone vibrated from inside, buzzing against the bin. I felt all the blood drain away from my face. A black hoodie lay in a heap at the bottom of the bin–the same one that A used to wear–with a black iPhone sitting on top.

I stared at the phone's screen, and terror seized me so strongly I worried I might have jumped out of my own skin. The message read,

I don't lurk in the shadows. I hide in plain sight.

I looked up to meet Caleb's wide, scared eyes matching my own. "It's happening again, isn't it?"

Fear shot through my chest. A was back.

Spencer

Sunday night, I sat next to Yvonne in the center of the stage in black leather chairs of The Radley Hotel, discussing the politics of voting. Tonight, the hotel was filled with reporters, journalists, and Hollis students for the campaign's town hall meeting. Long rows of folding chairs faced the stage, and there were banners proclaiming LIKE MY VOTE and MY VOICE. It felt strange to be sitting next to Yvonne, discussing the election, when she was dating my former boyfriend.

I scanned the crowd. Ms. Marin stood in the hall near the stage, watching the debate with a pleased smile on her face. Sasha Stefani and Josh Callahan, Jess' old childhood friends from Ohio, were sipping fruity martinis by one of the windows. Payton King, a family friend of Jess' who had just been promoted to fire captain at the New York Fire Department, was looking at his Samsung Galaxy phone in the corner. At the bar, my friends were clustered around on the bar chairs with their cell phones clutched in their hands. The only person I didn't see was Toby.

As I looked for Toby, I suddenly saw him, standing in the back of the room with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, beaming at me. My heart stopped beating, then started thumping erratically. He looked incredible in a gorgeous long-sleeved, dark blue button-up shirt and charcoal-grey jeans. His brown hair was messed up to perfection, and his skin was a few shades darker as if he'd been spending time out in the sun. Why did he have to look so amazing?

"All my friends turn out for national elections, but most of us don't even know when our local elections are held," I was telling the crowd. "Or really who our local representatives are."

"Until my mom got involved in the campaign," Yvonne cut in, "I didn't. Is young voter turnout low because we don't care to ask?"

I turned to Yvonne. She sat with her legs crossed in a perfect posture, her dark hair was curled in perfect loose waves, and she wore a gorgeous white patterned dress and cream-colored blazer, which looked like it came from Barney's.

"Or is it because we're confused and we're skeptical?" I asked.

"A lot of politicians come to power on the backs of rich donors," Yvonne said. "They like it when you're confused and cynical."

I looked at Yvonne enviously, wanting to choke her. Instead, I turned back to the audience, trying my hardest not to show what I was really thinking.

"Yvonne's right," I agreed. "For them, the less you know, the less you care. So they get to make a lot of the big decisions for you."

Yvonne nodded. "But we do have access to information and we wanna help you find it."

"We're on opposite sides of this campaign," I announced, "but on this issue, we stand together." _There. Take that, Yvonne._

"If you don't vote, you don't have a voice," Yvonne added.

I looked back into the crowd to find Toby smiling hugely, staring dreamily at me from across the room. My heart fluttered. Yvonne stopped speaking suddenly, following Toby's gaze, and glanced between the two of us with narrowed eyes.

I tensed, feeling like the biggest fraud. _She doesn't know I'm in love with her boyfriend,_ I told myself.

"Are you okay with opening this up to questions?" I asked Yvonne quickly, trying to distract her from Toby and I.

"Absolutely, Spencer." Yvonne's lips slowly spread into a wide, sweet-looking smile that seemed to say, _He's mine_.

I faced the crowd. "If you guys have any questions we'd be really happy to answer them."

At first people asked Yvonne and I simple questions like how to register to vote, and what people could do if they didn't know who to vote for. I answered the questions with ease, plastering a smile on my face. Reporters nodded, looking impressed, jotting down notes in their small notepads.

But when I saw a woman with pale-blonde hair in a dark blazer and pencil skirt raise her hand, I pointed at her. "Yeah?"

"Is it true that you were once romantically involved with Toby Cavanaugh?" the woman asked.

I felt cheeks grow hot. "Umm…" I looked over at Toby, and he paled.

I bit down on my lip, thinking about the night Toby and I had dinner together. _Oh, God_.

The crowd stared at me with curious, but judgmental eyes. My throat went dry, and it felt like my head was stuffed with cotton. I couldn't speak. When I opened my mouth, no sound came out. Did someone find out about my dinner date with Toby? Or that he'd spent the night with me in the barn? But that was impossible. The only way someone could have known was if they'd been following us and reported it to the press. And having dinner with an old boyfriend whom I hadn't seen in years hardly qualified as cheating.

Suddenly, Jess cleared her throat and raised her hand. "Have you always been interested in politics?"

Jess already knew the answer to this; she knew I had signed up for political classes my sophomore year at Georgetown as a backup plan in case my dreams of becoming an architect designer fell through. I threw her a grateful look.

"Um, of course," I answered. "I work as a lobbyist in Washington and I've always been passionate about making change."

When the people in the crowd smiled, I felt a whoosh of relief wash through me. Though I appreciated Jess' selfless sacrifice, I had the feeling that she had only done it merely to take the heat off me, rather than as a gesture of friendship.

After Yvonne and I answered some more questions, the debate started to come to a close. I could still feel Toby staring at me as we finished up.

"Be inspired to create the future you imagine by voting," Yvonne encouraged.

"What it really comes down to you guys is this," I said to the audience. "Nothing's ever gonna change unless you make your voice heard. Thank you so much for joining us."

Yvonne flashed a brilliant smile, and everyone broke out in applause. Yvonne and I stood up and shook hands as flashbulbs flashed at us from the crowd. Just then, a brown-haired guy with a press badge on the front of his shirt appeared with a ginormous digital camera around his neck. I moved to stand next to Yvonne and tried to smile at the camera, and the photographer snapped a picture.

When he disappeared through the throng of people, Yvonne turned to me. "That was fun."

"That really was fun," I said.

Suddenly, Yvonne looked distractedly at something behind me. "Oh, excuse me one second."

"Yeah."

She walked over to a chocolate-skinned girl standing by one of the pillars in the room, holding a small tape recorder, ready to start asking the _real_ questions.

I looked over and caught Toby's gaze. He stood about a foot away, staring at me with the proudest expression on his face, and I knew he'd seen everything.

I walked up to him, my heart rocketing against my ribcage. Toby folded his arms across his chest and smiled sweetly at me.

"I like her," I lied, trying to keep my feelings for him in control.

Toby glanced at Yvonne talking to the reporter. "She's one of a kind."

I looked at him. "Jess hates me. She thinks that I slept with Caleb."

There was a very vulnerable look on Toby's face. "Did you?"

"I don't know." I swallowed deeply. "All I do know is that I never wanted to be with him. I want to be with you. But I'll stay out of your way, okay? I promise."

Even as I said it, my chest burst wide open. Because I wanted to be with him more than anything and the thought of being away from him crippled me with unbearable pain. My life was meaningless without Toby in it.

"You were right yesterday," he said, his tone serious. "Leaving would have been a mistake."

I took a deep breath through my aching lungs. "Look, I know it's hard for all of us being back here. We've to force ourselves to remember that we're not the people that we once were."

"But-but it's temporary, right?" Toby asked. "I mean, you are eventually going back to D.C." His expression was unreadable.

I watched as his steely blue eyes turned liquid, melting into mine with a raw intensity. I could drown in the depths of them for miles.

I stared back uncomprehendingly into his eyes, refusing to accept what he meant. He wanted me to leave so that I couldn't get in the way of what he and Yvonne had.

I nodded numbly. "Yeah, they want me back the second the election's over."

I could barely hear the sound as I uttered the words, and the blood was pounding so fiercely in my ears that it made the room wobble in front of my eyes. A deep frown carved into his forehead as Toby dropped his eyes to the floor, as if he was tormented about something.

Something flickered in his eyes that I couldn't read. But before I could identify what the emotion was, he composed his features back into its serene mask and smiled gently at me. His crystal-blue eyes were empty and emotionless.

I forced a smile, struggling to fight back the tears. I needed him.

Toby gave me a parting look, then turned and walked away in the direction of where Yvonne was standing, who was still talking to the reporter. I watched him move to stand close to her and she slid her arm around his waist. My stomach rolled over seeing the two of them together.

They touched each other in a way that pronounced their sincere affection for one another. It was hard not to notice the connection between them. As much as I hated to admit it, Toby and Yvonne looked like the perfect couple, and the thought tormented me worse than anything I'd ever experienced. I didn't want to live without him.

Finally, I had to tear my eyes away, unable to stand looking at them any longer. The unhealed, gashes around the edges of my broken heart continued to throb. Love was irrational. The more you loved someone, the less sense anything made. I didn't want him to move on. I wanted to be his only girl. And agony punctured my chest knowing that could never happen.

I saw Aria, Hanna, Emily, Jess and Caleb huddling together at the bar from across the room, and I weaved my way through the crowd. "How did I do?" I asked them as I approached.

When no one answered, I frowned. Hanna, Aria, Emily and Jess were staring at Aria's iPhone and looking stricken with shock and fear. Caleb sat stiffly in the bar chair with a troubled expression on his face. Just moments ago, we'd sent Hanna upstairs to her mom's office to find the list of hotel guests from her computer. If Aria's dad was guilty of killing Charles, booking a suite at The Radley would be the perfect place to send malicious texts to four women without prying eyes.

"Guys?" My voice sounded far away, like I was swimming underwater.

I glanced uneasily at the others. Yesterday, after Jess and Caleb traced the location of the phone that was sending all the sinister messages, she'd texted all four of us, saying that there was a new A. But that was impossible–Charles was dead. He couldn't hurt us anymore. When the police had found Charles' dead body, I thought it was finally over. Now I didn't know what was true anymore.

Aria handed me her phone showing A's picture text of the murder weapon. "We were so busy looking at the murder weapon that we didn't notice," Hanna said.

I took a closer look at the photo. The golf club gleamed silver and the thick, black number nine was painted into the corner of the club's iron, but other than that, I couldn't spot any differences. But then my eye caught something in the background that I hadn't noticed before. Underneath the golf club was a black-and-white diamond carpet–the same color as The Radley Hotel's suite rooms.

"The carpet," I realized. I touched the screen with my finger and zoomed into the photo.

"You know, my mom spent weeks trying to match the uniform to those colors," Hanna explained.

I felt a roll of nausea. "So the person who sent this is staying at The Radley."

"Just like Sara Harvey," Emily added.

I handed Aria's cell phone back to her, and suddenly, it rang in her hand. She looked up at us nervously. "It's my dad."

"Answer it," Hanna and Caleb ordered in unison.

Aria pressed the phone to her ear and wandered away from the bar. "Dad?"

When I parked in the driveway of my mother's house that same Friday night, the door was still locked just as I had left it. My mom wasn't home yet, and the lights inside the house were dark.

I flipped on the light switch, flooding the house with its warm glow. After preparing myself a plate of fruit, I settled onto the living room couch, still feeling tense about the new A. I thought about calling Toby–he was the one who I always went to whenever I was feeling upset or stressed–but after our conversation at the hotel, I wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to me. Toby had made it very clear that he didn't want me a part of his life anymore. Instead, I concentrated on watching the news, looking out for the investigation on Charles. But when I kicked off my heels, I felt an aching sensation around the soles of my feet and toes.

I decided I should soak my feet, so I trudged up the stairs to make myself a bath. In the bathroom, I ran hot water into the Jacuzzi, waiting as it slowly filled the tub.

I dipped my feet into the hot water and sighed, letting the heat soak into my sore muscles. I took a sponge and scrubbed the bottom of my foot, massaging the spots that were tender. As I got started on the other foot, the doorbell rang from downstairs.

I frowned, feeling a surge of irritation. Who could possibly be here at this hour?

Drying my feet, I walked back downstairs and moved out into the hallway. The full moon from the house's large bay window outside was big and silvery, washing the room with its pale glow.

When I pulled the door open, my heart thumped. Toby stood on the porch, still wearing his blue button-down and jeans. It hurt how good he looked.

"When we talk?" he whispered.

I nodded, then stepped aside to let him in, wondering what he was doing here. Shutting the door, I looked down at my black fit and flare, long-sleeved lace dress and bare feet. My hair hung in wispy strands around my face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. A buzzing feeling warmed my insides from his close proximity.

Toby's eyes turned very soft. "I can't do this anymore. I still love you, Spencer. Nothing in this world could ever make me stop loving you."

I stared back at him frozen, unable to speak. "I…"

His eyes were steady on mine. "Tell me you don't love me anymore and I'll walk away."

My heart caught in my throat, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Sparks of electricity cackled between us, charging the room with a strong, deep sexual energy.

"I don't want to wake up in the morning and have this not be real," I whispered. "And Yvonne–"

"Means nothing to me," he finished. Toby stepped closer to me, leveling his eyes with mine. "You're the only one who has my heart, please believe that. This is real. Just tell me if you still love me. Am I too late?"

How could I believe it? The stubborn, logical part of my brain struggled to accept that this was real, that Toby was really here pouring his heart out to me. It felt too good to be true. But another part of me desperately wanted to believe what he was saying.

When I considered telling him to leave, my heart ached with yearning. I didn't want to say goodbye to him; I just couldn't. Not now, not ever.

"Of course I still love you," I finally said.

Then his mouth was on mine, and all the years we'd spent apart melted away. The second our lips met, I felt whole. I could feel my heart racing strongly in my chest, felt the blood pulsing hot and vibrantly through my veins again. My lungs filled deeply with his sweet scent. It was like a True Love's Kiss straight from a fairytale–my prince returned to me and had woken me up from my deep slumber. He'd healed the gashing hole in my chest.

Trembling, I kissed him back and pressed myself closer to him, panting amidst our explosive kisses. Toby caught my lower lip in between his teeth and groaned, digging his fingers into my back.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ I wanted to scream.

My hands wandered all over his back and shoulders feverishly, feeling the strength in them. I could feel every contour of his body pressing against mine, could feel the closeness of his hips. He paused briefly only to whisper my name.

His hands moved over my face, memorizing every line and detail, and mine traced his. Toby pressed his forehead against mine, breathing in heavy, ragged breaths.

We dove for each other again, giving into everything we had been fighting for so long. My lips parted in a wild gasp when Toby crashed us into the wall and tore open the front buttons of my dress, exposing my black lacy bra. We kissed ferociously, grabbing at each other's clothes and bodies, aching to be naked.

Consumed by desire, I jumped into his arms and threw my legs tightly around his waist, crushing my lips to his. Almost immediately, Toby carried me upstairs to my room. He set me down on the bed and tugged off my dress, discarding it to the floor. I was naked except for my black cotton boy shorts and bra. I suddenly regretted not wearing my sexy, lacy cheekies.

Toby followed me onto the bed as I crawled backwards, his eyes full of lust. I lowered myself to his waist, undoing the zipper on his jeans with my teeth before yanking them down. The waistband of Toby's black boxer briefs rested dangerously low on his lips, tempting me. I ripped open his shirt from the buttons like a curtain next, tearing it off.

I rose up onto my knees in front of him and ran my hands up his perfectly muscled abs and chest, stopping at his heart. When I looked up into his eyes, Toby was staring into mine, holding my gaze. His heart thudded against my hand. In that moment it felt as though our souls were connected.

He brushed my cheek with his fingers and then trailed them over my lips. I parted my lips beneath his fingertips with a sigh and closed my eyes.

"God, I've missed you," Toby breathed.

"Oh, I missed you, too," I whispered back.

Toby caught my face in between his hands and smashed his mouth against mine. I kissed him back harder, more urgently, allowing my lips to travel from his mouth to his neck. I gasped against his lips as I breathed in his heady scent and knotted my fingers through his hair.

Toby eased me down onto the soft pillows and settled on top of me. His hands moved beneath the back clasp of my bra, pressing his body hard against me. I could feel his thick desire rising with my own, infusing the air with electricity like lightning. I slid my hands underneath his boxer briefs and started rubbing his firm, muscular cheeks, making him moan. Toby took off my bra and rubbed his feet up and down my legs, groaning fiercely. He ran his hands all over my partially naked body, tracing my curves and stroking my skin. I released a breathless sigh of pleasure.

We rolled over and now I was on top of him. I splayed my fingers over his chest, breathing hard. The tattoo on his left hip was visible, and an incredible buzzing sensation vibrated in between my thighs. I was ready for him.

I moaned as I kissed down Toby's body hungrily, pausing to suck on his abs and lower navel. When I reached his boxers, I slowly pulled them off past his thighs. An animalistic growl rumbled from deep within Toby's chest as he twisted out of his underwear, and he kicked them off his feet. The sight of him filled my lower belly with dark desire.

The alpha in Toby rolled over on top of me with a moan and he traveled his lips along the side of my neck, inching toward my collarbone. I bent my knees up to his hips and tugged at his hair, needing to be closer to him.

Toby disappeared under the covers, and my heart pounded. He started trailing small kisses below the fabric of my panties, slowly easing them down to my ankles. I whimpered with need.

I kicked my undies off my feet, and I was naked. My entire body trembled with anticipation, quivering, shaking. Toby took my panties and tossed them across the room, landing on the arm of my red chair. Then he melted into me and laced his fingers firmly through mine against the pillows.

I moaned when I felt Toby slowly move inside me, taking his time as he helped me get there, and then picked up his pace, penetrating me. He dug in deeply, hitting my G spot. Tremors of pleasure rolled through my body as I gave into him. Shudders rippled through his pelvis over his back, bunching over his shoulders.

We grinded against each other slowly, roaming our hands all over one another's bodies, exploring, as if to make up for all those years apart. Our clothes were scattered across the room and we'd kicked off the comforter. The moonlight glowed against Toby's skin from the window, looking beautiful and flawless.

Being with Toby felt familiar, yet new and exciting all at once. There were still some things that remained the same, like the loving way he would hold me and guided me gently on what to do. And other things were new and different–the expert way he moved his hands along my body, touching and kissing me in places he hadn't before, lingering at my most sensitive spots, and whispering words of naughtiness that made my heart race. He'd learned some new sexy, naughty moves in bed over the last three years, too; his movements more precise, steady and skilled, satisfying all my needs.

I arched my back as the pleasure built, screaming his name over and over. Sexual knots twisted in my stomach, winding tighter and higher until it exploded. I bent my knees high up to his hips and dug my fingers hard into his back. He was pleasuring every part of me, making my belly quiver and clench. Toby braced his arms on either side of me as he led me through my release.

We panted heavily throughout our intercourse, our bodies hot and glistening with sweat. Toby rubbed his body sensually against me while he covered his mouth with mine, kissing me like I was his oxygen and he couldn't breathe without it. I reciprocated his long, deep kiss and tangled my hands through his hair.

We paused for a moment to gaze deeply into each other's eyes, and I stroked his face lovingly.

"I love you," Toby whispered roughly, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallowed deeply. "I love you, too."

Then he pressed his lips against mine deeply again.

Our sex was incredible. We couldn't stop even as our limbs grew sore from the long hours of lovemaking. Sparks flew between us as we rolled around in the sheets wildly, and our rhythm was hot and intense while we moved together in perfect sync. It was a connection of complete physical, mental, and every kind of love, transcending beyond spiritual.

Toby wrapped his arms around my back and lifted me up onto his knees to entangle our limbs together. I let out a gasp of surprise from the sudden movement. He bent his head toward my chest, running his tongue over my bare breasts. I groaned as he started to suck on my nipples, rolling his tongue over my breasts slowly and sensually, savoring me like I was a dessert.

I closed my eyes and brought him closer to me, curling my fingers through the soft waves of his hair. He rocked into me and I flattened my feet into the mattress behind him, holding me up as he rolled his hips against mine. I used the strength in my legs to gently thrust against him up and down.

When I rested my cheek on his shoulder, Toby pulled back to look at me. "Are you getting tired?"

"No," I lied. I didn't want to close my eyes and wake up later to find him gone. It would be as if none of this existed.

I stared at him, wishing more than anything that this moment would last forever, that we could stay in our own little bubble indefinitely. Toby stared back at me, his eyes soft, and I knew that he felt the same way about me.

"You can sleep," he assured me.

"Okay," I murmured warily. "Just promise me one thing."

His sparkling blue eyes bored into mine. "Anything."

"Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up."

"I promise," Toby murmured, and kissed me softly on the lips.

Toby wrapped his arms around me and slowly leaned back against the pillows, pulling the sheets over us. I rested my head against his chest and sighed happily. Snuggled closely against him, I was warm and comfortable.

I was suddenly struck with the realization that this was real, that what Toby and I had was real. And nothing else mattered–not Yvonne, not Caleb, and not the threat of a new A lurking outside in the dark. All that mattered was that I would get to spend forever with Toby for the rest of my life. I pictured us a year from now, married and living in our dream house, the sounds of our children filling the backyard with their laughter. I imagined Toby and I kissing passionately in front of our friends and family as we promised our love to each other at our wedding, the same picture I'd always had since the moment I knew I was falling in love with him. It felt like I'd been waiting my whole life for him.

The love between us was a strong bond that could not be broken by absence, time, or distance. It was special, beautiful, magical, perfect, and everything I could ever want. Toby was as irreversibly connected to me as I was to him. Compared to this hurdle, all our problems seemed so insignificant now. He really did want me the way I wanted him–forever. Our souls would always belong together.

As Toby held me tight in his arms, I drifted off to sleep from his steady heartbeat thudding in my ear.


End file.
